Biker Mice From Mars - The British Connection
by FreedomFighter13
Summary: When Charley gains a new neighbour Throttle's stress levels hit a new high - but all is not what it seems...
1. Chapter 1 - New Neighbour

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

Okay, first chapter of the first fanfiction I'll publish - yeah, I'm nervous! Hope everyone enjoys! :D

And a huge thank you to MayaPatch for some really helpful hints ;)

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Chapter 1 – New Neighbour

"Whoa! Charley girl! Smells like you got a chef living next door!" Throttle sniffed appreciatively at the smells wafting in through the garage's open windows from the house that'd been built adjacent to the garage.

"Yeah, they arrived last week," Charley looked up from the truck she was working on, "haven't seen them yet; but they must have money or influence or both to have bought that place from right under Limburger's nose!"

"So – you've not seen them yet then?" Throttle looked curiously at Charley; Modo and Vinnie pricked their ears forward in interest. They'd both seen the builders working on the house, but had paid little attention.

"Nope," Charley shook her head and laughed, "why? You're not worried? You know it's normal for people to keep to themselves when they move in. They'll have a thousand things to do and they may be a bit shy still."

"Hmmmmm, provided it is just that they're shy Charley ma'am," Modo murmured thoughtfully.

"What else would they be?" Charley asked sticking her head back under the hood.

"Plutarkian?" Vinnie suggested. Charley bumped her head on the hood as she swiftly turned on the white fur ball.

"What? You don't seriously believe my new neighbours have anything to do with Limburger do you?!" Charley growled, "Honestly guys I can't see Plutarkians or their allies being able to cook like these people obviously can. It's like living next door to a gourmet restaurant! Besides why would they be living next door?!"

"I don't know!" Vinnie waved his hands in a placating fashion, "It's just strange is all – ok?"

"Sure – I get a nice new neighbour who cooks real well, and has nice furniture, nice plants – nice pets even! And all you guys can think of is that they might be Plutarkian! The removal men were regular humans!" Charley shrugged and then frowned, "Although they did have some pretty weird stuff as well."

"Plenty of Limburger's associates are human and what do you mean weird stuff? Like what Charley girl?" Throttle asked in irritation as he rubbed his temples.

"Nice pets?" Vinnie echoed.

"Oh - armour and weapons and stuff Throttle – nothing that'd interest you. And yeah, Vinnie – they have dogs," Charley smiled, "they have cats too I think."

"Cats!" the three mice exclaimed in unison.

"Well they had cat baskets," Charley trailed off, "sorry – I didn't think, Vinnie's allergic to them right?"

"Well yeah," Modo rubbed his forehead thoughtfully.

"Is this all cats? Or just certain breeds?" Charley asked.

"Dunno - can you be allergic to some and not others?" Vinnie frowned.

"Yeah, I had a friend who was allergic to Persians and Persian crosses," Charley nodded.

"And what's this about weaponry?" Throttle's voice held a note of seriousness that made Charley snap to attention. The tan furred leader had been stressing badly recently, the last thing he needed was more worries.

"Old earth stuff Throttle, you know swords and spears – nothing for you guys to worry about. It definitely wasn't Martian or Plutarkian weaponry, just regular earth stuff, so don't freak out," Charley smiled reassuringly.

"Okay, okay – so we don't need to worry about who they are, but there's a bigger problem," Throttle sighed, "what about us – I'm pretty certain they, whoever they are, have never seen giant Martian mice before!"

"Guys," Charley gritted her teeth as she spotted the tell tale signs of Throttle flipping out with stress, "you'll just have to be more careful is all – okay? I mean there are a few people who've seen you and not freaked out! Or just wear your helmets?"

"Yeah, and then there's gonna be the one person who does freak out! Like whoever moved next door!" Throttle reminded her in exasperation, "It's a bad situation all round. And how can we come over here helmets or no, if they could just pop round anytime they please?"

"Oh for heaven's sake! If you're that worried – get out! Go back to the scoreboard!" Charley threw a wrench at the wall. The mice winced at the loud clang as the tool hit the wall and then bounced of a tool box before hitting the floor. It'd been a long week of Throttle getting on everyone's nerves with his stressed attitude; Charley had been overrun with jobs and was looking forward to closing her diary for a couple of weeks. She didn't need Throttle's bad attitude taking over her time off.

"Ok Charley girl, we're going," Throttle strode over to his bike with slightly dragging footsteps.

"Bye Charley," Vinnie added miserably.

"We didn't mean to upset you Charley ma'am," Modo spoke quietly.

"Get out," Charley intoned coldly, "I can't do anything about having a new neighbour, but you guys can do something about coming here."

"What? Charley?" Vinnie's ears drooped, "You don't want us over anymore?"

"Not if you're so freaked out about being discovered!" Charley snapped, her temper flaring. Vinnie's ears drooped still further. It wasn't him and Modo who were the problem; but Charley would ban all of them rather than singling Throttle out.

"Okay Charley girl, we'll see you around I guess," Throttle hung his head; he knew he'd way overstepped the mark, but didn't want to apologise. Charley didn't look as the three bikes roared out of the garage. Her shoulders slumped as the engines' noise died into the distance; she slowly stomped over and closed the garage doors. Sighing she made her way up to her bedroom and stared out of the window at the city. Silently she began to weep at what had just passed between her and her friends.

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Please review and/or give constructive criticism :)


	2. Chapter 2 - Introductions

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

Just a quick note on the language! I'm from the UK so my knowledge of colloquial American speech is pretty limited! Also I tend to use a slightly outdated form of the English language so feel free to ask re. any weird words/terms! :)

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Chapter 2 – Introductions

Moving house was always stressful; moving to a new house in another country was even more stressful. Still Freda was determined to make a new life for herself in Chicago; one way or another. The plot of land she'd bought was in a thoroughly run down part of town that looked in need of major redevelopment; she'd designed the house herself and had employed some very bemused builders to make the plans a reality. The result was a timber framed; brick built building after the style of the English Tudor period; although the overall layout was more like a large, sprawling medieval manor. Freda could imagine her Dad's face if he ever saw her current residence, it would be pure gold. So far she'd seen little of the city; and nothing of her singular neighbour. The Last Chance Garage seemed to be a well used business though, judging by the number of vehicles she'd seen going back and forth.

Freda sighed as she stared at the mess she needed to sort out. Furniture needed moving into permanent positions, crates and boxes still required unpacking and she still hadn't found the crate containing her whisky. She'd only finished decorating parts of the house; many rooms hadn't even been painted let alone furnished. She startled slightly as a wet nose connected with her hand; looking down she smiled at the large, brindle greyhound that stood at her side.

"Well Tam, what do you think?" Freda spoke softly to the goofy looking dog. Tam cocked his head to one side and shook himself before belting off to another part of the house. Freda rolled her eyes and headed to the kitchen. A spot of baking before unpacking was probably just the thing. The large kitchen was the only room to have really been sorted out properly since moving day. Freda was soon too lost in cooking to care about unpacking any more.

Charley lay curled up in a ball by the window, every now then a sob would wrack her body. It had only been a couple of hours since the boys left and she already regretted her words. She looked out of the window and struggled to her feet when she saw the dog in her yard. A small, white and brown spotted greyhound type; that was currently engaged in going through her trash can, Charley ran downstairs. She was surprised at how ridiculously easy it was to catch the dog; the delicate creature just ran over wagging her tail pathetically. Charley looked into the dog's soft, brown eyes and started crying all over again. Twenty minutes later a very red eyed Charley stood on the doorstep of her new neighbour's house. Breathing deeply she knocked and waited. The dog wagged its tail as the door opened and trotted in quite happily.

"Hello!" a female voice greeted Charley cheerfully, "Come on in."

"Oh I don't want to be a nuisance – I just bought the dog back, she was in my garbage," Charley explained miserably.

"Heh – come in anyway, you look like you need company and I'm guessing you don't have any at the garage," the young woman answered with a smile as she pulled Charley in gently. She had a definite British accent; the house and its furnishings suddenly made more sense in the mechanics mind. The door closed softly and Charley stood open mouthed at the beauty of the building; wood panelling ran round the lower walls of the hallway and a pretty green paint covered the plasterwork above. The staircase was positively imposing and led up to a galleried landing. Her new neighbour was quite pretty after a fashion, dark brown eyes and hair with a deep tan coloured skin tone. She was tall and slim with strong muscles over her arms and shoulders; her dress was casual, jeans and a t-shirt with stout boots. Looks like she keeps pretty fit somehow Charley thought to herself as she studied her neighbour's musculature

"Sorry about the mess, still haven't unpacked properly – really bad I know – I'm Freda by the way," the young woman waved absently at the boxes and packing cases and led Charley down the hall and through to the kitchen, "please tell me you were joking about where you found Kizzy."

"Nope, she was in the trash cans," Charley replied softly, before belatedly adding "I'm Charlene, but everyone calls me Charley."

"Cool! Your name that is – not my disreputable mutt's sorry behind being in the dustbin!" Freda laughed, "She really is quite revolting at times!"

"She's such a beautiful dog! I was surprised at how friendly she was," Charley murmured looking round the huge kitchen. Freda evidently loved cooking, the sheer amount of space was amazing; the kitchen also seemed to be very much the heart of Freda's house. On one side of the room wooden chairs stood near an old fashioned fireplace, cushions nearly spilling onto the floor. A door led into the living room; with an inglenook fireplace next to that, old fashioned wooden settles making for a cosy communal area. The main feature of the kitchen had to be the tables dominating the centre of the room; racks of cookies were cooling, giving off a delicious aroma. A more modern range cooker stood the other side of the room next to a door leading off to another room.

"Huh – Kizzy is too friendly! Anyone broke into the house they'd get licked to death!" Freda chuckled breaking Charley's reverie, "tea or coffee?"

"Oh – coffee please," Charley replied, continuing to gaze around the large room. A beautiful wooden dresser caught her eye, making her green with envy at the blue and white porcelain dinner service displayed there on. There were several dog beds near the range by the side door along with a messy pile of toys.

"So you run the garage on your own?" Freda asked suddenly.

"Yup, just me," Charley nodded, "um, so, you're from the UK?"

"Uh-huh, England born and bred me; fancied a brand new start away from everything so I wound up here. Of course I ended up moving my entire crew over," Freda grinned.

"Crew? You have family?" Charley asked curiously.

"Lorks!" Freda looked around startled, "phew! No we're safe – no family!"

"I'm guessing you and your folks don't get on then?" Charley laughed.

"Nope – at least not for the most part, my Dad and his folks are ok; but my Mom's family – urrrgh! Nah the crew is the dogs mainly – plus a few extras," Freda shrugged and handed Charley a cup of coffee. She indicated a rather beaten up old sofa by the French doors overlooking the garden at the back of the house; having evicted the sofa's occupying greyhound they sat down.

"So how many dogs do you have?" Charley asked cautiously.

"Well Kizzy you've met; the couch potato we just evicted is Falcon; asides from that I have over a dozen others," Freda waved a hand casually.

"Are they all greyhounds?" Charley asked with a laugh as Falcon began rubbing her elongated head across Charley's abdomen.

"Predominantly, though I own a few other breeds as well," Freda nodded, "Kizzy's greyhound x saluki for a start."

"Wow – I thought for sure she was a greyhound!" Charley stared in open mouthed amazement at Kizzy who had stretched out in a patch of sun. Freda shook her head.

"Well don't let anyone convince you it's a good cross! It's a demon sent from the very gates of hell – especially when she gets loose! Think a greyhound's speed with the stamina of a saluki – yeah she'll go all day if I let her," Freda groused good-naturedly.

"So – why choose this neighbourhood?" Charley asked curiously.

"Honestly? I don't know – apart from the fact the land was dirt cheap and well - I didn't want to spend a fortune," Freda sounded somewhat sheepish, "besides a house like this wouldn't fit in so well in other locales – it doesn't even fit in here!"

"And you don't know anyone here in Chi-town?"

"Yeah I know one person."

"Who?"

"There's a really great mechanic called Charlene who I feel like I've known forever!" Freda grinned impishly. Charley laughed and sighed.

"Some friends of mine were a bit suspicious about you," Charley blushed, "they were worried you were in with a corrupt business man."

"Wouldn't be called Limburger would he?" Freda asked in a low voice that dripped with dangerous undertones.

"Yeah," Charley sighed again, she'd been hoping Freda knew nothing about Limburger.

"Hmph – I'd barely signed the deeds to the land and he and his cronies were all over me wanting to purchase it! Hasn't left off since – last time that big, greasy lunatic showed up Squash bit him!" Freda shook her head, "if your friends have any doubts the title deeds and the corresponding documents are between me and previous owner – who wasn't named Limburger. This land was slated for redevelopment – the land agent said it might be worth a try on the purchase front. I tried and I got!"

"Phew! You had me worried there for a second – who's Squash?" Charley asked.

"Huh – oh Squash is an Alaskan Malamute cross. Lovely natured lady normally, but something about that lunatic rubbed her up the wrong way," Freda shook her head, "I'm still thanking heaven he didn't send the cops round!"

"He wouldn't," Charley shook her head, "not unless his boss Limburger told him to."

"Well that's a relief," Freda sighed before jumping up and running to the oven, "cookies!"

Charley looked over curiously; she'd seen the cooling cookies and had smelt something still baking but hadn't really paid much attention.

"So – who upset you so much?" Freda called as she whipped the trays out of the oven and set the cookies to cool.

"My friends getting completely paranoid over my new neighbour," Charley looked so depressed that Freda didn't have the heart to be offended at the blunt admission.

"Oh – afraid I'd have a broomstick under the stairs and be in cahoots with old Lousewart?" Freda enquired.

"Something like that – Lousewart? Never heard Limburger called that before!" Charley grinned wickedly, "Though it kinda suits him!"

"Heh – my name for him!" Freda jerked a thumb toward herself with a grin. She tossed Charley a cookie and came back to the sofa munching one herself. Charley bit in to the still hot cookie and groaned appreciatively at the still melted chocolate.

"Freda – you are a bad, bad woman!" Charley sighed.

"Don't I know it?" Freda retorted as she licked melted chocolate from her thumb, "chocolate always makes stuff better. Fancy another one?"

Charley nodded grinning broadly.

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Please review and/or give constructive criticism :)


	3. Chapter 3 - Discoveries

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

* * *

Chapter 3 – Discoveries

At Charley's nod Freda simply tossed the rest of the cookies onto a plate and the two women sat munching their way slowly through the fresh cookies.

"So you planning on doing much with your yard?" Charley asked sleepily over an hour later.

"Yard? Oh – you mean my garden? Yeah I'll be doing some gardening – got to have my home grown veggies!" Freda grinned, "Do you think your suspicious friends might like to earn a few bucks?"

"Well I could ask them – but they are a bit, well, shy around strangers," Charley answered slowly.

"Due to the tails and ears huh?" Freda queried with a smirk. Charley sat bolt upright with a small exclamation of shock.

"You knew? All this time you knew?" Charley breathed out slowly, "Freda you can't say anything!"

"I know, I know! Don't worry I won't! If it's any comfort to you I did actually move here deliberately – and by deliberately I mean I looked up your address and bought the lot next door on purpose," Freda chuckled.

"Why?!" Charley asked in rising panic.

"Because I was asked to," Freda shrugged, "apparently it's easier to visit friends if they're all in one place."

"Who told you that?" Charley paused, thinking; then groaned, "No, don't tell me – let me guess – you didn't happen to meet anyone by the name of Stoker did you?"

"Whew – clean shot Charley! Yup I know Stoker, met him a while back. I was already thinking of moving to the U.S. – Stoker just picked out where I'd be moving to," Freda smiled as she remembered her first encounter with Stoker.

"How did you meet?" Charley asked in amazement, "Did Stoker end up in the U.K. for a reason?"

"Nah, he was meant to be headed here, but he took some hits from a Plutarkian ship and something on board his ship got damaged so he ended up in Gloucestershire, U.K. instead of Chicago, U.S.A.," Freda shook her head, "I don't really understand it fully."

"Martian ships are a bit complicated," Charley agreed.

"I'm glad I met him – he was an interesting kinda guy. Plus the dogs loved him!" Freda grinned, "he stayed an entire two weeks, mainly fixing his ship, but the company was nice. He told me a lot about the bro's and you, mars, the war, his niece – Carbine? Yeah loads of stuff, it was really interesting – and I think he found me interesting as well – slightly terrifying, but interesting!"

"Terrified – Stoker? You frightened Stoker? How!" Charley asked in amazement.

"Heh, um – I'm a re-enactor. I do quite a few different periods, but my main speciality is medieval European stuff – British mainly – so yeah bona fide way of terrifying Stoker – come at him with a fifteenth century sword and bollock dagger!" Freda laughed, "He had just crash-landed in my shed – I thought he was breaking in after some of my kit – it's pretty expensive stuff – and making a really bad job of it! So he kind of got the full blown these are sharp and I know how to use them malarkey!"

"Whoa!" Charley laughed, "Were they really sharp?"

"My weapons – nah – they're for re-enactment, so they have to be blunted. But in fairness in the dark you can't actually tell that easily," Freda admitted.

"So did you bring them with you?" Charley asked hopefully.

"My weapons? Heck yeah! Never leave home without them – come on I'll show you the armoury," Freda got up and trotted off into the hall. Charley followed slowly, still unsure on how the dogs would react to a stranger in their midst. Freda led the way up two flights of stairs and into a large room with no windows and a heavy lock on the door.

"Welcome to the armoury!" Freda motioned round the room at the array of weapons and armour she'd amassed over the years that currently lay half unpacked over various surfaces.

"Wow! Have you actually used all of these?" Charley asked taking in the incredible and slightly terrifying sight.

"Yup – most of them see regular use," Freda nodded, "here try this."

She lightly tossed a short sword to Charley who fumbled to catch it. Charley weighed the metal in her hand dubiously.

"I was expecting it to be heavier," Charley pulled a face.

"Oh you want heavier? Right, well that's a fifteenth century blade – try this twelfth century sword, bit more weight to it," Freda carefully passed the blade to her friend.

"Whoa!" Charley was amazed at the difference in weight. Freda smiled smugly – whoever said technology was a modern thing?

"I've got swords from other periods too, even other countries – you're welcome to come over and... heck! Sorry Charley – giving you the whole come on lets practice thing!" Freda shook her head, "I seriously need to find a group!"

"Group of who?" Charley asked curiously.

"Re-enactors! I'm going a little loco here on my own," Freda admitted dryly.

"Ohhhh – well I don't think we have too many groups round here – so why don't you start one?" Charley suggested.

"You think folks would be interested?" Freda asked in surprise.

"Yeah probably – we have some bikers round here. They might be interested, and there are plenty of other folks into their history I guess," Charley nodded.

"What about you?" Freda asked with a shrug.

"Maybe... just keep wafting swords under my nose and I think I might just be persuaded!" Charley laughed.

A howl echoed up from downstairs. Both women turned to the door of the armoury looking puzzled before frowning as a reverberating knock sounded on the front door. Freda raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes and trotted out. Charley followed slowly after placing the sword down on a table. A large, scruffy looking, grey and white dog was setting up a perfect one dog operatic chorus from behind a packing case; Charley hastily tried to reassure the large scruff. It looked Charley up and down before switching the noise to a deep, menacing growl as Freda approached the front door with a very small metal shield in her hand. Freda wrenched the door open to discover her least favourite of Chi-town's residents dripping on her front porch.

"Youse ready to sell up yet yer mouthy dame?" Greasepit snarled, "Coz if you ain't the boss says I can be imaginative."

"Really, you have an imagination?" Freda asked silkily in a clipped British accent, "go away please – I have company."

"Oh that's the dame from next door – Mr Limburger wants her," Greasepit started forward as he spotted Charley. Freda landed a crotch shot on Greasepit with the shield and was rewarded with a howl of pain. She slammed the door and shoved several heavy packing cases against it.

"The armoury! Quick!" Freda yelled. Charley hurried back up the stairs. Freda slung the shield thing down; quickly selected her favourite longbow and grabbed a quiver of sharp arrows she usually used for target practice.

"Er – Freda you're not planning on using those?" Charley pointed at the articles Freda carried.

"Yup – after all it's not like they're good law abiding citizens now is it?" Freda snapped, "Besides it's hardly as permanent as laser fire. And I can't use the buckler long distance."

Charley glanced at the metal buckler and realised it was probably actually designed for close combat; the small size made it easily manoeuvrable, whilst the raised central boss would pack a mean blow in lieu of a punch. She hurried after her new friend and watched as Freda strung the bow and took aim at Greasepit out of one of the upper storey windows. The shot hit home, straight in Greasepit's thigh; Freda grimaced at the row the oversized goon made when he was hit. She aimed and shot again this time catching his upper arm. Charley clapped her hands over her ears. Despite muffling the racket outside the window it still didn't block the sound of motorcycles roaring down the street. Freda held the next shot as she watched the three mice see off the goons. A tan furred mouse, apparently the leader, looked up at the window; although Freda couldn't see his face she could sense the frown. He motioned to the others that they were leaving and they roared back off down the street.

"Don't tell me – they didn't even bother to check I was ok?" Charley asked grumpily.

"Afraid not Charley," Freda grimaced as she unstrung her warbow, "whew! Hope I don't have to do that again anytime soon."

"Well it's more than likely you will Freda," Charley spread her hands; "I better get back home and lock up the garage properly."

"Sure thing – after you've locked up come back over and I'll fix dinner ok?" Freda grinned.

"You sure? You only just met me..." Charley trailed off and rubbed the back of her neck.

"The dogs' like you, that tells me all I need to know," Freda smiled and shrugged, "any fancies?"

"Not hot dogs!" Charley replied decisively.

"Heh – yeah I remember Stoker seemed to have a penchant for them and – root beer?" Freda raised an eyebrow; Charley nodded.

"Sounds like Stoker," the mechanic laughed, "I'll be over in a bit then?"

"Definitely! If you're not over here by the time dinner is cooked I'll come get you," Freda grinned, "you're not vegetarian are you?"

"Nope," Charley laughed, "and I'm not afraid of trying new things either."

"You realise that does give me free license to cook anything barring hot dogs don't you?" Freda teased, "Including some unspeakable historical dishes?"

Charley gulped and shrugged before smiling. Freda laughed at her friend's innocent trust in her culinary skills.

"I'll be nice – I promise," Freda grinned.

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Please review and/or leave constructive criticism :)


	4. Chapter 4 - Troubles

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

* * *

Chapter 4 – Troubles

"So that was Charley girl's new neighbour?" Vinnie asked as they climbed the stairs up to the scoreboard, "Sweet! Looks like the lady knows how to fight dirty!"

"Vincent!" Throttle and Modo shouted in unison. All three mice had caught sight of the female archer in the top storey window; the shots that'd hit Greasepit definitely hadn't been accidental, they couldn't even be put down to pure luck. Whoever she was the archer had intended to hit the oversized lunk-head. The goon had looked like he'd not be causing trouble for a few days at the very least.

"Okay! Okay! Just saying!" Vinnie pouted as they walked into their bachelor pad.

"What did you think Modo?" Throttle asked breaking into a can of root beer.

"Dunno – after all we ain't met her yet. But Charley ma'am was with her – saw them both through the window," Modo shrugged.

"Charley girl wouldn't rat us out – I know that, but I still think it's too dangerous a situation for us to take lightly," Throttle murmured thoughtfully. Vinnie belched loudly from his position on the couch.

"Yeah, but if we took her into our trust like we did Charley girl then we'd have two people who know about us in the same area who could look after each other. Like I said the lady kicks butt!" Vinnie tried reasoning with his friend.

"Yeah, n' Charley ma'am could use a friend – a female, human friend. Maybe Vinnie's right for once Throttle?" Modo spoke slowly unsure how their tan leader would react. Throttle had been under an insane amount of pressure recently, mainly from all the fights with Limburger; he'd held out well considering, but cracks were beginning to show. The afternoon's bust up with Charley had been the point where matters had come to a head; every time they'd seen Charley recently, Throttle had been really off. Now it seemed Throttle had gone too far.

"And maybe she's a hysterical human female that's terrified of mice? Dogs and cats Charley said – and cats hunt mice," Throttle shook his head and grimaced at the headache he could feel uncurling at the back of his skull.

"Doesn't necessarily mean she's frightened of them," Vinnie reasoned moodily. He was seriously pissed at Throttle for upsetting Charley; and he wasn't about to tread carefully. Modo sighed quietly; he could see an almighty argument brewing between his tow bro's.

"Why don't we ask Charley ma'am about her neighbour – she's evidently met the lady who moved in," Modo suggested.

"Maybe," Throttle snapped. The communicator crackled into life and Throttle growled as he stalked over to it. Modo scowled as Vinnie opened his mouth to say something, Vinnie pouted, but Modo just shook his head in warning.

"Hey Carbine," Throttle answered the general wearily as he took a seat. Carbine pulled a face, but chose to ignore the lack of formality in Throttle's greeting.

"Hello Throttle, just to let you guys know; myself, Stoker and Rimfire are heading to Chicago – we'll be there in two days," Carbine spoke crisply.

"Why? How long for?" Throttle's ears snapped up and his look became intense.

"Do we need a reason to visit? It's never been a problem before," Carbine replied icily.

"Charley has a new neighbour, things are difficult with Limburger – there's a thousand things going on and we're not in control of any of them," Throttle threw his hands up before burying his head in his arms. His earlier headache was progressing toward a migraine.

"Not to worry, we'll keep low profiles and do what we can to help," Carbine spoke soothingly; Vinnie looked incredulously at the normally icy general.

"Yeah, ok babe," Throttle agreed, sounding a little more like his old self, "we upset Charley girl this afternoon though."

Noises of protestation from Modo and Vinnie caused Throttle to visibly wince.

"Okay, I upset Charley girl," he corrected, Carbine's eyes narrowed.

"Apologise – that's an order Commander," Carbine snapped, "you guys need Charley and you know it. Carbine out."

The communicator went quiet. Throttle sighed and rubbed his head.

"I'll apologise in the morning," he said as he rose and stalked to his bunk. Modo and Vinnie exchanged looks.

"We'll go get some dinner then," Modo announced airily as he and Vinnie slid quietly towards the door.

"You're going to see Charley aren't you?" Throttle's moody voice was now slightly muffled by the mattress due to the fact he was laying face down.

"No," Vinnie gulped.

"We need food – an' ya said ya were gonna apologise in the morning," Modo agreed, giving Vinnie a conspiratorial look. Throttle simply grunted. The two made their exit.

"We are going to go see Charley girl right?" Vinnie asked as they started their bikes.

"Yeah," Modo nodded, "n' maybe find out a bit about her new neighbour."

They headed out onto the streets heading in the direction of the Last Chance Garage. Modo whistled when he saw there were no lights on at Charley's place despite the gathering dusk. They pulled up in front of the garage and looked across at the new building.

"What do we do?" Vinnie asked, eying the house next door curiously.

"We don't know where she is," Modo muttered.

"Easy. She's next door – bet ya anything you like," Vinnie grinned.

"Well, turning up on the doorstep ain't gonna be a good idea," Modo warned, "but I really did want to see Charley ma'am n' explain things a bit."

"We could try and get her attention," Vinnie suggested excitedly.

"Naw – we'd get her neighbour's attention too; plus we know the neighbour owns dogs," Modo grimaced, "an' they're big dogs judging by the sound o' the one we heard earlier."

"Come on! Bet they're friendly!" Vinnie laughed. Modo scowled and chewed his lip; they needed Throttle's brains. Their leader would have had a plan to alert Charley to their presence without attracting unwanted company. Modo was stumped; he stared at the house for a long time. A light flickered on at the side of the house and a figure appeared with a large dog in tow.

"Oh Momma!" Modo groaned, looking wildly at Vinnie.

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Please feel free to review and/or leave constructive criticism! :)


	5. Chapter 5 - An English Dinner

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

* * *

Chapter 5 – An English Dinner

Charley hadn't enjoyed a meal so much for years; Freda was proving excellent company. In the end her new found friend had opted for sausages, onions, mashed potato and an English invention called Yorkshire pudding. Despite her early reservations Charley had found she actually liked the stodgy English fare once she tucked in. She'd discovered a lot about Freda in her short time round the house. Freda had an extensive library, an even more extensive music collection and a resplendent dvd collection. She was also skilled at a number of crafts, would hum or sing whenever she felt it had gotten too quiet, and seemed to hold a prominent position in her re-enactment group. Charley's eyes had fairly popped as she opened box after box of goodies in Freda's living room. They'd shelved some books whilst they waited for dinner to cook, music blaring off Freda's Hi-Fi system, and the dogs had even moved into the living room in the hope of food.

Charley was amazed how relaxed she felt amongst the large dogs that Freda seemed to prefer; there were even two that looked like they could floor Modo if they chose to. Freda favoured greyhounds and had rescued all of the animals she now owned. Charley had winced at the two stories Freda had told her about Kizzy's past. Charley had discovered that the dogs were amazingly chilled despite their histories, the cats were cool too – especially the one who loved the Hi-Fi; and Freda owned small animals as well. Freda laughed as she described menagerie manor, her humorous nickname for her house back in the UK. Apparently she'd only bought those animals that fitted into her new house with her; she was now looking for suitable accommodation in order to bring her smaller animals, horses and a variety of farm animals over to Chicago with her. Charley jokingly suggested buying up some more vacant lots and starting a farm park or petting zoo; Freda had looked extremely thoughtful over the idea, even asking if Charley would object to having that kind of set up next door.

Halfway through the meal Charley heard the familiar roar of motorbike engines. Freda looked up.

"Apology time maybe?" Freda asked. Charley shrugged.

"Could be, but there's only two of them," Charley replied, getting up and peeking over at her garage through one of the large windows.

"How can you tell that?" Freda sounded disbelieving as she moved Charley's plate out of the reach of Kizzy, who was taking full advantage of Charley's absence to try and help herself.

"Trust me you get to know after years of working a garage and putting up with those fur balls," Charley chuckled, "bet Modo was worried."

"Why don't you invite them over? I could stretch dinner – I did extra anyway," Freda suggested.

"You sure – I already feel like I'm taking your house over! I don't want those three doing the same!" Charley exclaimed.

"Hey as soon as I want you all gone I'll give you a firm push in the direction of the door!" Freda laughed, "go on – humour me. I'll even get a bottle of mead out."

Charley laughed and headed for the kitchen door with her shaggy doggy friend from earlier following curiously.

"Okay if you say so," Charley grinned as she exited with dog.

"Hey guys!" Charley called out to the two nervous looking figures on bikes parked in front of her garage.

"Charley ma'am?" came Modo's worried reply. Charley ran down the pavement and hugged the huge grey furred mouse tight.

"How're you guys fixed for dinner?" Charley asked excitedly.

"We're not," Vinnie pouted, "we were going to get some once we'd seen you, but then you weren't – WHOA! HEY!"

Vinnie scrambled hurriedly off his bike, nearly falling over in his haste, and turned to stare at the shaggy dog that'd just sniffed him. Charley and Modo laughed hysterically at the sight of the indignant white mouse glaring down at the all too innocent looking dog.

"Vinnie, Modo, meet Colonel – he's one of my neighbour's dogs and a total cutie!" Charley beamed, "and dinner is fixed if you're interested."

"Oh, we don't want to put ya to any trouble Charley ma'am," Modo waved his hands distractedly.

"No trouble, dinner is already served," Charley jerked her head to the neighbouring house, "Freda already knows about you guys and is totally cool with it."

"You told her about us!" Vinnie squeaked in amazement.

"No, she already knew, and no, she's not with Limburger," Charley sighed, "just come on over ok?"

"Sure thing Charley ma'am," Modo agreed nervously looking at his bro; Vinnie just shrugged before following Charley and Colonel towards the large house next door.

Freda looked up from where she was preparing more Yorkshire pudding with a smile as Charley returned with two large mice in tow. She ran an appraising eye over her new guests, the tall grey one was Modo and the shorter white one was Vinnie if she remembered Stoker's descriptions correctly.

"Hello," Freda greeted them cheerily, "hungry?"

Both mice were already sniffing appreciatively at the smell emanating from the dishes she'd set on the table just before they walked in. Everybody apart from Freda jumped at the sound of a deep booming bark; a very large dog appeared in the doorway. Vinnie yelped at the sight. Charley's eyes went as round as saucers; this was one dog she hadn't seen yet, a hulking behemoth of a Great Dane, black and white, with huge floppy ears.

"Boomer!" Freda yelled over the dog's barking. Boomer trailed off with a half-hearted and somewhat pathetic woof and looked suitably chagrined.

"Whoa – where was he hiding?" Charley asked as she approached the huge dog.

"Upstairs asleep probably, that's his usual occupation," Freda shrugged and then smiled at the still startled mice, "he's a gentle giant – you needn't worry."

"Oh right," Modo rubbed his sweaty palm against his jeans and snagged a seat at the table in front of an empty plate. Vinnie silently inched round to the other seat with an empty plate and sat down hurriedly, almost ending up on the floor. Charley burst into a fit of the giggles and Freda chuckled quietly as she shoved the Yorkshire pudding into the oven.

"Well dig in," Freda indicated the dishes, "and if a white nose appears from under the table just tell it to go away."

Vinnie and Modo looked puzzled. Freda sat down in her seat which has nearest to the modern range.

"Kizzy?" Charley asked, sitting down to resume eating her interrupted meal.

"Yup, took the opportunity of moving in whilst you were out," Freda nodded, "little madam is the world's worst thief!"

"Another dog?" Modo enquired in surprise; Charley nodded.

"How big is it?" asked Vinnie looking under the table to find a small, delicately boned dog staring back at him soulfully.

"That big," Freda nodded at Vinnie as he sat back up. Vinnie nodded in reply and reached out to start serving himself food. Neither Vinnie nor Modo had really eaten in this way since coming to earth, Charley usually just doled stuff out or else they served themselves straight from the pan. Charley nearly gasped as she realised Freda had gotten the two fur balls to eat new things with barely a comment or query as to what it was. Both of them loved the Yorkshire pudding, Charley had groaned at that, but Freda had simply laughed and said it was one of her favourites. Vinnie kept looking about nervously at the dogs and the table setting; everything felt really formal and Vinnie really didn't do formal very well. He'd clattered the lid to a really expensive looking serving dish already, but Freda had politely just brushed it off as nothing. Modo on the other hand had relaxed quite quickly; he had taken the precaution of draping his tail across his lap to avoid canine investigation and had set too with a will on the food front. Freda and Charley talked sparingly during the meal, Modo munched steadily, and Vinnie alternated between gulping down food and air.

Once they'd eaten their fill Freda began clearing the dishes, quickly assisted by Modo. Charley took the opportunity to drag Vinnie into the living room to meet some of Freda's dogs. Vinnie seemed really uptight in the room full of canine eyes, but began to relax as he realised none of them had actually made a single move toward him. His eyes fell on the open and half empty crates that Freda and Charley had been unpacking.

"Wow! How much stuff did Freda bring!" Vinnie exclaimed as he began rifling through dvds. Charley planted her palm to her forehead and stalked back into the kitchen where Modo was busily washing up. Charley picked up a tea towel off a hook and started drying up. Freda clattered into the kitchen with dog food bowls.

"You guys seriously don't have to worry," she called to Modo and Charley.

"Least we can do Freda ma'am," Modo smiled as he rinsed the last dishes and stacked them to drain.

"Yup, that was an epic meal," Charley nodded, "by the way Vinnie is rooting through your dvds."

Freda shrugged and placed the last dog bowl down before pursing her lips and whistling shrilly. The dogs came crowding into the kitchen. Modo and Charley flattened themselves against cupboards to avoid the melee of tails that whipped past them all wagging hard. They retreated to the doorway between the living room and kitchen and watched the frenzy.

"Sorry," Freda apologised sheepishly, "I should really have warned you guys about the dinnertime charge!"

A yelp from the living room drew their attention to Vinnie. Modo gasped as he saw a very large domestic cat sat on the back of the sofa staring at his bro.

"Odin!" Freda exclaimed, walking over and scooping the cat up. Charley gasped as she saw how big the cat was; it was nearly half the size again of an ordinary, large domestic tabby. A deep purr filled the room as Odin relaxed into Freda's hold.

"He's a bit suspicious of men," Freda explained, "he was really badly abused as a kitten. I've done loads of work with him, he's nowhere near as bad as he was, but he is still a scary puss when it comes to meeting new guys."

She tickled the cat playfully and was rewarded with more purring. Vinnie slowly relaxed and gently held out his hand. Odin sniffed delicately at the pro-offered limb before licking Vinnie's fingertips cautiously. Vinnie's eyes opened wide in shock as he realised the cat had only one eye on the right side of his face, the place where the other eye should be was a skin covered hollow with brutal scarring. Modo drew in a sharp breath as he noted the same thing.

"What happened to him?" Modo asked as he scratched Odin's head absently.

"Nobody knows for sure, all we can guess at was that it probably involved a knife and that the person wielding it was male," Freda shrugged, "he's still terrified of knives and knife like objects."

Vinnie swore softly in Martian. Freda offered Odin up to Modo so she could go and get cat foot ready. Modo chuckled as Odin settled along his metal arm and began purring loudly. Charley looked curiously at the cat's face, despite the scarring Odin looked deeply contented in Modo's arms.

"So looks like you aren't allergic to whatever breed Odin is," Charley grinned at Vinnie.

"Guess so," Vinnie replied in surprise as he realised his allergy hadn't kicked in.

"Watch it guys," Freda warned as she called the cats down for their dinner. Odin politely but firmly exited Modo's grasp to go and see off the competition for food; Freda chuckled.

"Some of them are so convinced the others will nick their food it's hilarious!" she shook her head at the antics of her felines.

"They're actually pretty cute," Vinnie decided as he knelt on the floor to watch the cats better.

"Heh – that's a bad idea," Freda warned as she clocked Vinnie's position. Vinnie frowned, then yelped as a wet nose and tongue made its presence felt on his face. The large brindle greyhound Freda had introduced as Tam stood wagging his tail at Vinnie as he pressed greyhound kisses all over the startled mouse. Modo creased over laughing, whilst Charley leant against the doorframe for support.

"Kisses Tam," Freda crooned as Tam renewed his attack on a now helplessly laughing Vinnie. Tam gambolled off and pounced on a toy racoon that grunted as the dog's weight impacted.

"Kisses?" Vinnie asked in bemused annoyance as he got up and headed to the sink to wash off.

"Yup, that dog loves people – and kisses!" Freda giggled, "So what are we watching tonight? Or do you guys have to get back to your bro?"

"Throttle is probably asleep," Modo shrugged as he sat down on a sofa, "he looked like he had a bad headache."

"Probably be glad if you two stayed away then," Charley suggested with a wry grin, "I can get us a movie from my place?"

"Uh-uh!" Vinnie shook his head vehemently, "I already picked! Freda has an awesome collection of dvds there's one about this fat guy called Henry V one one one that sounds cool!"

"Henry the Eighth," Freda corrected, "he was a very interesting man – although I didn't peg you as the historical type Vinnie."

"History?" Vinnie twitched his ears uncertainly.

"Yeah, Henry the Eighth was an English king who lived hundreds of years ago – that dvd you saw is like a documentary about him," Charley explained.

"Technically his wives – although you learn a fair bit about him and his children too," Freda agreed.

"Ughhh!" Vinnie snorted.

"Tell you what - how's about I choose? Something historical which I think you'll enjoy?" Freda suggested. Modo nodded even though his stomach was sinking; Vinnie just pulled a face.

"History is not interesting," Vinnie stated with some feeling.

"Okay this series is about the English Civil War, it's a drama about a fictional noble family of the period and is done in one hour episodes," Freda waved a dvd case under Vinnie's nose, "if you still think it's boring after an hour we'll stop the disc and put a film of your choice in – deal?"

"Deal," Modo agreed firmly, he frowned at Vinnie reminding the younger mouse they were guests in Freda's house. Freda placed the first disc into her dvd player and pressed play. Vinnie's frown slowly disappeared as the title music started; in half an hour he was hooked on the politics and social structure of the family in the series. Modo watched appreciatively enjoying learning some earth history in the company of good friends. Charley sighed and curled up with a crochet covered cushion as she became immersed in the grittiness of the story. Freda simply grinned; she knew her bet was won.

Three hours later they'd watched all three episodes on that disk.

* * *

Please review and/or leave constructive criticism! :)


	6. Chapter 6 - Full English

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

So sixth and final chapter for now :D have the rest of the story written already so will be uploading it over the next few weeks :D

* * *

Chapter 6 – Full English

Throttle woke up to the sound of his bro's snoring the next morning. They'd gotten in sometime early that morning chattering loudly about castles, swords and guns. Throttle had paid little attention to it at the time, but now he was awake and wondering if they'd been to the cinema the previous evening. He trudged into the kitchen and turned the kettle on to make coffee. Less than 48hours until Carbine arrived; he felt a mess, things were getting way out of hand. The worst of it was that he had to go apologise to Charley, if he didn't he'd not only have his bro's on his tail, but Carbine and Stoker as well. Throttle rubbed his temples; the pressure was mounting.

After gulping down a mug of weak coffee Throttle reluctantly dragged down stairs to his bike and drove the short distance to Charley's place. The garage was locked up; Throttle shook his head mildly surprised, but unconcerned at this. His concern grew however when he discovered the locked doors to the house, no lights on, no sign of movement. He paced back round to the front of the garage and looked suspiciously at the new house next door.

"Morning!" a cheery female voice hailed him over the fence, "Charley's over at my place – come and have a coffee while you wait!"

Throttle shook his head, he still had his helmet on and he was fairly certain the woman couldn't see his tail at this distance. What to do about the invite though? Throttle sighed polite excuses seemed to be the order of the day; only problem was he wasn't feeling particularly polite.

"Come on Throttle, I know all about you – I've met Stoker!" the woman called again. Throttle felt his stomach muscles tighten and his head reel. She knew – she knew about them; but she'd said she met Stoker already. Throttle slowly strode over to the house. He was met by a cheery young woman holding a one eyed cat in her arms.

"Come on," she indicated a path leading to the back of the house. Throttle followed mechanically.

"Where's Charley?" Throttle asked as he stepped into the kitchen and looked for the brunette mechanic.

"Asleep upstairs – we were up late last night talking, so I persuaded her to stay over. Did the bro's get home ok? They had quite a bit of mead! Sit down won't you?" she indicated a chair, "I'm Freda by the way."

"Morning," Throttle murmured wondering what mead was. The cat jumped down and ran into an adjoining room. Freda began brewing coffee and cooking breakfast; two canine heads watched intently from the doorway.

"Hope you like strong coffee," Freda shoved a mug across the table, "give me a minute and I'll have breakfast to go with that."

"You don't have to..." Throttle began, but Freda cheerily cut him short.

"Nonsense! I love cooking – and cooking is always better when there's more people to feed! Besides you look like you need a good breakfast – you've not been sleeping well have you? You look tired and stressed, and you're temper isn't at its best – go on admit it, you'd love to shout at me right about now," Freda looked at her newest guest.

"Yeah I would love to shout at you," Throttle agreed sheepishly, "don't think my head would appreciate the noise though."

"Oh – I probably shouldn't have given you coffee if you have a bad head," Freda spoke apologetically then brightened, "fancy some stress relief?"

"Like what?" Throttle asked curiously, his flicking tail finally beginning to slow after days of stressed out lashing. Freda really was a breath of fresh air; a very chatty breath of fresh air mind you.

"I'm making bread – you can give it a good pounding if you'd like?" Freda indicated the dough on the side in a bowl with a laugh, "I'm doing too much at once as usual."

"Er – it might get furry," Throttle replied lamely, forgetting he still had his helmet on and hadn't even taken a swig of the coffee.

"Take your helmet off you goof ball! I know you're not human so why pretend?" Freda shrugged; Throttle nodded slowly and released the strap to slide his helmet off.

"How do I?" he looked at the dough as he strode over to the surface.

"Wash your hands first," Freda instructed, "then knead it, pummel it, punch the tar out of it!"

"Right," Throttle washed his hands and dried them before tipping the bread dough out onto the already floured surface. He uncertainly began pushing the dough back and forth; Freda deftly stepped across and showed him how to pull the dough round in a kneading motion.

"You can thump it – my mates back home always did, more they thumped it the better it tasted I reckon," Freda told Throttle cheerfully as she went back to cooking breakfast, "where're Modo and Vinnie? They said they'd be here for breakfast."

"Still asleep when I left – hey you know Modo and Vinnie?!" Throttle suddenly exclaimed as the import of what Freda had been asking finally sunk in.

"Yup they were over here last night – give the dough a good bashing as punishment for your bro's going behind your back eh?" Freda winked and disappeared. Throttle began punching the dough viciously, slowly the punches stopped and he returned to kneading it before thumping it again as he thought of all the frustrations he'd been bottling up. Freda reappeared and nodded approvingly.

"Looking good!" she said as she checked on what was cooking, "hope you guys like full English."

"They've never had it," a sleepy Charley yawned from the doorway.

"Morning Charley!" Freda called in a sing song voice.

"Morning Freda, morning Throttle," Charley yawned again, "you know for a camp bed that thing was deliciously comfortable!"

"I could make you one if you'd like," Freda offered, she'd made up one of her medieval campaign bunks for Charley the previous evening. Constructed of wood and rope the end result was surprisingly comfortable.

"Charley I need to apologise for yesterday," Throttle suddenly spoke up, "I've been really stressed and I apologise for getting so fixated yesterday."

"It's ok Throttle," Charley picked up the mug of coffee Throttle had left and took a sip, "I know you've been stressed."

"How's the bread dough helping?" Freda asked looking at the firm dough shaping up under Throttle's hands.

"A lot actually," Throttle replied in surprise as he realised he was still kneading the dough firmly. Charley chuckled as she watched the tan furred leader taking his frustration out on the willing subject.

"Where are those two?" Freda asked in disgruntled tones as she looked out of the window for any sign of Vinnie and Modo.

"I think this might be done," Throttle murmured as he looked at his dough and flour covered hands, "though I probably got fur in it."

"There's always fur in my bread dough – I own dogs and cats," Freda waved off Throttle's apologies good naturedly as she spotted an extremely sleepy Vinnie and a yawning Modo weaving their way across from the front of Charley's garage.

"So you do have cats?" Throttle asked as he washed his hands again. Freda placed the dough in a greased bowl and covered it, setting it atop the cooker to begin rising.

"Yup, just regular ones though, all rescues I took in," Freda pointed to the top of a dresser, "there's Bes waiting for her breakfast – and hoping to get some of ours no doubt!"

The beautiful tabby queen meowed loudly in response. Charley reached up to her and lifted her gently down.

"Aren't you on your Hi-Fi perch this morning?" Charley crooned. Vinnie and Modo walked in at that moment, Vinnie immediately rolled his eyes at the sight of Charley with the cat.

"Nah – she only sits there if it's on, I would have named her Hathor after the ancient Egyptian goddess of music but I'd already got a cat with that name so I called her Bes instead," Freda shook her head, "she's a funny one."

"What's Bes?" Charley asked sleepily.

"Ancient Egyptian god of entertainment – or one of them at least," Freda laughed, "I don't pretend to be an expert on Ancient Egypt."

"Oh wow – are all your cats named after gods and goddesses?" Charley queried as Bes rolled trustingly in her arms.

"Pretty much, it's building on a theme – I've always loved old legends and stories from different cultures. I just never realised how fully it would creep into my life!" Freda laughed, "Anyhow breakfast's ready!"

Throttle gave a low whistle at the variety of food Freda had cooked up; apparently English breakfasts were a somewhat decadent affair. Vinnie gave a whoop of delight and dove in. Charley set Bes down on the dresser and sat down quietly resigning herself to the fact that Vinnie was going to love this meal as much as the one last night.

"Wow, Freda ma'am ya didn't have to cook so much," Modo murmured as he helped himself to bacon and eggs.

"Nonsense! An army marches on its stomach!" Freda grinned, "Least that's my paternal grandfather used to tell me."

"Guessing he was in the military?" Charley enquired.

"Yup, Grenadier Guards," Freda stated proudly, "after that he was a policeman in Gloucestershire."

"So are the Gren-di... Gredni – whatever! A famous British regiment?" Vinnie asked round a mouthful of food.

"Gren-a-di-er Guards," Freda slowed the word down so Vinnie could hear the syllables more clearly, "yes they are a fairly famous regiment I think – they're very famous in the UK at least. They're the senior regiment amongst the Guards Division at any rate if that means anything to you. Actually both they and the Coldstreams were formed during the English Civil War – on different sides of course."

"So they're an old regiment," Charley raised her eyebrows.

"Old and distinguished," Freda winked, "and steeped in tradition like most of Britain!"

"Is it true that they and the Coldstream Guards are the oldest of the Guards Division? And that they dislike each other?" Throttle asked; all eyes suddenly locked on the tan furred leader. Throttle shifted uncomfortably under the stares, Freda was the first to recover herself from the shock.

"Yes, they're the two oldest regiments. From what my Grandad said the two regiments were fiercely competitive – I would imagine that still holds true. How much do you know about British Regiments?" Freda asked curiously.

"Oh, I er – heh, accidently discovered something or other about the Guards on tv," Throttle shrugged, "it looked interesting."

"Seriously?" Vinnie asked incredulously, "It looked interesting?"

"Well there's no reason not to learn about earth history n' culture while we're here," Modo reminded the younger mouse. Vinnie pulled a face.

"Well that is of course unless you have a pea sized brain," Charley teased, Vinnie choked on the piece of sausage he was eating.

"Well if you're interested I have lots of history books – mainly British history of course, but you're welcome to borrow anything you find interesting," Freda shrugged, "they'll only be gathering dust until the next time I read them otherwise."

"Thank you," Throttle replied in surprise, "I'd love to borrow some books, I have wanted to read for so long, but the public library is a bit of a problem."

"I can imagine, and naturally being a gentleman you can't expect Charley to lug heavy books back and forth," Freda grinned, "look no further. I'm afraid I'm bit limited on subject range, but what I am interested in I have a lot on."

"Like the entire box I emptied yesterday on the War of the Rose?" Charley asked stifling a yawn.

"Wars of the Roses Charley," Freda grinned apologetically, "sorry I keep doing that don't I?"

"What's that Freda ma'am?" Modo looked confused.

"Correcting you guys," Freda replied chagrined, she honestly couldn't help it, and she just hated hearing mistakes over historical stuff. Thing was most people got really irritated really quickly over her corrections.

"Awww! Don't worry doll! We're from Mars remember? We're bound to get things wrong!" Vinnie interjected soothingly.

"Yeah ok, so I have an excuse to correct you guys, but not Charley – she was born on earth and educated here. I have no right to keep correcting her like an erring student!" Freda reasoned.

"Oh I don't mind – honestly! You're really interesting, and I won't learn proper terminology until someone teaches me. I never enjoyed book-ish subjects at school, the teachers were soooo boring!" Charley huffed, "You tend to tell it like an adventure story!"

"Oh! I can be boring – trust me I do boring very well!" Freda laughed, "History can be a really dry subject in some areas, but it can also be really exciting and rewarding."

"You a historian then?" Throttle asked glancing sideways at Freda, she didn't seem the sort but you could never tell.

"Kind of, I'm a bit of a jack-of-all-trades really," Freda shrugged, "I get bored easily so I dabble in other subjects; I used to drive my old history tutor at university quite, quite mad!"

"Dabble? How do ya dabble in stuff?" Modo queried in surprise.

"Well I used to go on archaeological digs as a volunteer, and then I finally did a college course in archaeology – that resulted in one heck of a temper tantrum from the professor! I like English, English Lit, Languages, Anthropology – oh and I studied historical aspects of Religion, Philosophy and Law during my Bachelors degree," Freda rattled off, "there's other stuff I'm in to as well, but those are the main ones."

"Heck!" Vinnie grumped emphatically, "you're a bookworm!"

"Munch, munch, munch!" Freda agreed happily grinning. The others laughed as Vinnie's face mutated into a picture of abject disgust.

* * *

Please review and/or leave constructive criticism! :)


	7. Chapter 7 - The New Plan

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

* * *

Chapter 7 – The New Plan

"So you need a hand unpacking?" Throttle asked slowly looking at the mass of boxes in the living room after they'd all finished eating. He felt more relaxed than he had in ages, the pounding he'd given the bread dough having relieved some of the tension he'd been under, temporarily at least.

"Well I think a hand or two would motivate me into unpacking properly rather than living out of boxes," Freda chuckled, "I've been happily procrastinating for the past week with regards to the unpacking."

"Oh," Vinnie commented in confusion.

"How much have you got done?" Charley asked curiously.

"Well, I have a bed to sleep in, a sofa to sit on, with a TV for company and my kitchen is up and running – I can live like this on a pretty much permanent basis!" Freda laughed.

"Seriously?" Modo asked in shock. Most humans he'd seen seemed to require a lot more than the simple set up Freda currently had.

"Seriously – a place to sleep, a place to relax and a place to cook? What more does one person need?" Freda laughed again, "As a heads up I'm re-enactor Modo, we tend to be one of those groups of people who are less picky about a lot of stuff."

"Oh," Modo nodded thoughtfully.

"Not to say there aren't plenty of others who could, and do, live like this – heck I've known folks who've lived with less! But considering the family I was born into and my work and all, well, I guess I am a bit eccentric!" Freda shrugged, "it's all relative after a fashion."

"How is it all relative?" Charley enquired incredulously.

"It's all relative based on how you imagine yourself living, and how you're used to living," Freda waved a hand expressively, "some people couldn't get by without a large house and all the trimmings. Other people I've met live in one room huts, own very little and are probably a good deal happier than the wealthy folks in their mansions."

"I see what ya getting at, yer saying that having a big house an' money don't necessarily mean yer happy," Modo nodded meditatively.

"Meh – way too much philosophy for this early!" Freda grinned.

"Freda – what do you mean you're a re-enactor?" Throttle asked slowly, a frown crossing his face.

"I mean I'm nuts enough about history to enjoy camping out in a canvas tent, wearing linen and woollen clothing, eating food most people wouldn't touch with a barge pole and running around yelling unintelligible chants and rants whilst being hit by various metal implements!" Freda roared with laughter at the apprehensive looks on the faces of the three mice.

"Seriously Freda – you are nuts!" Charley chuckled.

"Yeah, well – being normal just isn't as much fun," Freda pulled a face, "too much normal and I'm telling you – I break out in a rash!"

"Ya enjoy getting hit with stuff?" Modo breathed out slowly from where he'd unwittingly been holding his breath.

"Why would you eat strange things people don't eat?" Vinnie squeaked in horror.

"You know how to fight don't you? That's home come you were able to land two shots on Greasepit yesterday," Throttle grinned thoughtfully.

"Well yesterday proves I can use a standard long bow and not much else," Freda raised her eyebrows, "except perhaps that I am prepared to use it against someone. Not exactly the most glowing first impression."

"Huh, you have enough weaponry to kit out a small army in your armoury," Charley pointed out in a matter of fact tone of voice.

"True, but it wouldn't stand up against laser weapons," Freda shook her head and shrugged, "sorry and all, but armour and old weaponry is a double edged sword on that front."

"You eat weird things?" Vinnie squeaked again.

"Not weird Vinnie, and not stuff that's not been eaten before. It's just foodstuffs that aren't fashionable, and dishes that aren't really cooked anymore," Freda waved off Vinnie's concerns; "if I cooked historic recipes up for you I expect you'd like them the same way you like other things."

"Huh, I seriously doubt that!" Vinnie rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Getting back to what I was talking about," Throttle glared at Vinnie, "Limburger wouldn't be interested in your weapons and stuff then?"

"Nope, well at least not unless he has a serious interest in historical weaponry," Freda shook her head, "I could still help you guys though – I mean at least you'd know there's someone to back Charley up when you're off fighting."

"Now all we need is tin helmets and a Tommy gun!" Charley mused laughter creeping into her voice.

"Uh uh," Freda shook her head, "now you are looking for trouble."

"Wha-what did you just say?" Vinnie sputtered, "Sweetheart, there's no such thing as looking for trouble!"

"In the world of Vinnie, no you don't look for trouble, you start it! But Charley was looking for trouble, besides judging by what Charley has told me – and what Modo and you told me last night you guys already have enough problems keeping Limburger in check. Why add more agro to the mixture? Ergo Vinnie – I am not about to start winding Limburger up," Freda rolled her eyes expressively.

"Then how are you helping?" Charley asked, "I don't need a babysitter."

"I wasn't suggesting you did," Freda sighed, "look out right confrontation isn't the only way forward you know. Sometimes other methods are easier, less time consuming and less stressful. Sometimes they are even more fun!"

"Like what?" Throttle asked curiously.

"There are a million things history can teach us Throttle – including how to fight crafty, or fight dirty, you know whatever rocks your boat," Freda leaned forward conspiratorially, "I mean there must be stuff Limburger doesn't like? And I know of plenty of things that would make working for Limburger, well, uncomfortable to say the least with regards to his goons. Otherwise we could always sabotage that tower of his – after all why blow it up week after week when you could simply undermine the most recent foundations or otherwise interfere with construction materials?"

"Yeah but that's what we do!" Vinnie howled, "we fight Limburger, we blow stuff up and we enjoy it!"

"Limburger's not the only Plutarkian on earth, but you three are the only Martian mice. Get my drift? If you spent less time fighting Limburger, you'd have more time to fight other Plutarkians. Maybe even enough time to persuade them to give up on the idea of ransacking earth," Freda explained.

"I like this plan; I mean it all hinges on the fundamental truth that sometimes less is more right?" Throttle spoke quietly, he was lost deep in thought at Freda's suggestion.

"Less is more? How does that work?" Modo asked, covering Vinnie's mouth to prevent another outburst.

"By thinking more deviously you'd spend less time constantly fighting Limburger and more time fighting the Plutarkians as a whole," Charley looked at Freda in open mouthed amazement.

"Which is why it would be a good idea for me n' Charley to buddy up on the defending homes and businesses front," Freda cocked an eyebrow at the mechanic.

"I get ya," Modo nodded, "kinda a defence force in case Limburger kicks off when we're away."

"Yup," Freda nodded, "anyway sorry guys but I think the kids waited long enough for breakfast."

"Kids? Ya have kids Freda ma'am?" Modo looked round curiously.

"No – sorry – I usually refer to my pets as the kids!" Freda chuckled and walked over to the storage cupboard where she kept the pet food. Dolling out food into bowls she whistled to attract the dogs' attention and then refereed the feeding frenzy. Charley and the mice had retreated to the living room pending the charge. Modo had found Odin curled up on a chair and had settled down for a commune with the one eyed feline. Charley had relocated Bes and stood cradling the pretty cat in her arms as Bes purred her pleasure at Charley's attentions. Vinnie and Throttle just stood looking bemused at their two friends; finally after the cats had been fed as well Freda rejoined them.

"So – unpacking?" Charley gestured to the boxes.

"Slave driver," Freda pouted.

* * *

Quick note on Freda's comments re. re-enactors - there are lots of folks who can and do make do without a lot of mod-cons, and are perfectly happy. Freda on the other hand, being a re-enactor would happily swap the 20th/21st century for a much earlier period in history and love it! :)

Please review and/or leave constructive criticism


	8. Chapter 8 - Rich Kid

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

Ok, next chapter :) this one is a bit more emotional - to start with I'd like to dedicate this chapter to three members of my family who fought and lost very fateful battles - and I think it's only fair to warn folks that there are references to cancer in this one so feel free to skip this chapter if you'd prefer. I'll stick a short summary at the start of the next chapter to cover what's in this one :)

* * *

Chapter 8 – Rich Kid

Vinnie had wracked the Hi-Fi system's volume up high and was busily locating boxes of dvds and unpacking them onto the shelves Freda had already installed. Charley had opted for unpacking Freda's CD and LP collection – whistling quietly at her friend's eclectic tastes as she rifled through the cases with a keen interest. Modo had discovered a room full of furniture and was happily hefting it into the correct locations throughout the house. Throttle had paired up with Freda,in order to tackle the very large mountain of books that had been stacked haphazardly to one side of the room when Freda had been looking for something else. He glanced sideways at the boxes yet to be unpacked and shook his head.

"Is there such a thing as too many books?" Throttle mused aloud as he read the titles of the history books he was holding.

"Absolutely not!" Freda grinned as she shelved the books she was holding and reached for more.

"Heh, you must love reading," Throttle quipped lamely as he filed the books away in the correct locations.

"It's a hobby," Freda shrugged, "so do you wanna talk?"

"What about?" Throttle looked puzzled.

"You seem more than a little stressed out – sometimes talking can help. Even if you just talk about random things, it can help to put things in perspective," Freda explained slowly, "I tend to stress pretty easily – kinda like a storm in a teacup most of the time. Still the stress and pressure are very real – for me at least."

"Yeah, I know that feeling," Throttle sighed and glanced at his bro's, "the worst is it feels like no one gets it! Instead of helping they just heap more things up for me to stress over."

"Well don't feel like you're weird for thinking that – it's actually a common feeling when you're under pressure. It's like you have so much to do in too little time and people seem to create problems! It gets quite seriously annoying!" Freda laughed, "Some of the best and worst bust ups I've had with friends have been when I'm really stressed!"

"Best and worst?" Throttle frowned.

"The best are when the argument clears the air and your friends realise how much you've been feeling the pressure; the worst is when the argument makes things worse and nobody realises how crap you're feeling," Freda said seriously, "luckily the latter has happened very rarely to me personally, but I know a friend who really went through the ringer after an argument."

"How? Sorry - bad question I guess..." Throttle rubbed the back of his neck.

"Heh, it happened a long time ago and I think all of us who were involved have kinda come to terms with it now. He, well – he tried to take his own life – thankfully we got him to hospital in time and they were able to save him," Freda looked thoughtful, "I think that's the most terrified I've been in my entire life."

"How old were you?" Throttle queried quietly.

"We were both 15, everyone said we should be happy – we had our whole lives to look forward to. The fact that we were doing mega stressful exams didn't mean a thing. It was hard, everyone our age was stressed – you couldn't really talk to your friends, you know? And then there was pressure at school from the teachers over getting good grades and pressure from your parents over the same stuff," Freda sighed deeply, "I am just so grateful my Dad wasn't like that. He was totally cool – literally the only thing he said was that I'd sink or swim based on my own efforts and motivation. If I goofed off I'd get bad grades, if I worked hard my grades would be good; but the decision was left up to me. He never made me feel like I couldn't talk to him about problems. Some nights he'd actually drag me away from my books and take me on a long motorcycle ride."

"Motorcycle? Wait – your Dad's a biker?" Throttle's eyes popped.

"Yeah, my family are considered a bit nuts, but by our standards we just don't see certain things as being incompatible the way others do," Freda giggled, "sure Dad's a famous academic, but he's also a biker and a re-enactor and he's totally cool! He's the kind of Dad who'd take you places and you'd not be totally embarrassed by him!"

"Wow," Throttle breathed, "so are all your family academics?"

"Well yes and no," Freda laughed, "my Dad comes from a long line of academics – there are a few black sheep in the family, like my Aunt Connie, she's a fashion designer – oh, and my Grandad of course. But predominantly, yeah, the whole of that side of my family are like uber-intelligent! My Mom was American, she wasn't particularly pretty, or especially intellectual, but she worked hard and achieved a lot; plus she was a great mom! Her and my Dad were like best friends; he's really studious ya know? But Mom, well she could bring out the fun side of my Dad's personality; and Dad acted as a bit of a calming influence to her I think. Her family are a mixed bunch – all totally outrageous and everyone is so loud!"

"Whoa," Throttle smiled, "so your Dad's British and your Mom's American? That must have been kinda interesting?"

"Heh, you bet – especially when the grandparents were involved!" Freda chuckled at the memories, "my grandfathers tend to snipe unmercifully at each other whenever they meet!"

"What about?" Throttle looked puzzled.

"Mostly historical stuff – the world wars is a favourite sticking point, or the American Revolution," Freda shook her head, "they get on ok some of the time, the rest of the time it's like someone announced world war three!"

"Freda ma'am? The post just arrived," Modo appeared in the doorway waving a letter.

"Great," Freda growled as she clocked the handwriting. She took the letter with a sigh.

"Bad news?" Charley enquired looking over from the LP's she was shelving.

"After a fashion yes," Freda tore the envelope open, "it's from my Gran'dam – so I guess she knows I moved here already."

"Gran'dam?" Vinnie looked puzzled.

"Grandmother – I'm guessing?" Charley looked to Freda for confirmation; Freda simply nodded as she skim read the letter.

"Marvellous. Just marvellous," Freda grumbled.

"What's she say?" Throttle looked worriedly at the letter.

"Firstly she wants to know why I would want to move to a place like Chicago when she already fixed me a place in New York. Secondly she disapproves totally that I haven't announced my coming so she could throw one of her wretched parties. Thirdly why have I not visited and lastly she hopes I found a nice American boy to settle down with – if I haven't she's got someone she's dying for me to meet," Freda checked off her Gran'dam's main points on her fingers.

"Whoa – who is your Grandma?" Charley whistled, "She sounds – I dunno, like she's trying to organise your life?"

"Oh she's good at that – I know she means well, but she just takes over! As for who she is well, my Mom's family are kinda rich," Freda replied in embarrassed tones.

"Oh," Charley's eyes popped, "how rich?"

"Rich, seriously rich," Freda shook her head, "I don't fully understand the ins and outs of their business – apart from the fact that the company makes enough of a profit each year to keep each member of the family in possession of a small fortune."

"Ah, so why are you here?" Vinnie asked incredulously, "I mean it sounds like you don't belong here."

"Yes, yes I do. I chose to come here because it is not New York – and because it is miles from my Mom's family! Heck Mom moved to the UK to get away from them! I wanted to be closer to some members of my American family, that's why I wanted to move, I just didn't want to be closer to all of them!" Freda looked miserable. Modo stood unsure as to whether to stay or go; Freda was evidently really upset by the letter. Vinnie seemed so twitchy that the grey furred giant wanted to thump him just to make him relax. Throttle on the other hand reacted perfectly to the situation; stepping forward he enveloped Freda in a hug.

"So you moved here Freda-girl and we're so glad you came," Throttle's voice crooned, Freda felt shivers go down her spine at the gravelly quality that voice held.

"Well you're still just Freda right? And money isn't always bad – after all I'm guessing that's how you can afford to rescue all your dogs and cats?" Charley spread her hands, "Vinnie – this is actually quite cool!"

"Yeah I guess..." Vinnie shuffled, "just I never met a person I liked who happened to be loaded!"

"I guess Vinnie does have a point – usually the people we meet who have money are all bad guys," Throttle agreed, Freda still comfortably held in his arms, "but there's always a first time for everything."

"Yeah, n' I think it's good," Modo nodded firmly, "after all not everyone is gonna be dirt poor."

"I'm certainly not that," Freda giggled, "if it lays your minds at ease, not all my money comes from my Mom's family. Like I said, my Mom worked hard to get what she had – and she made a lot of money on her own with no help from the family."

"But that's your Mom – oh I guess she lets you have an allowance?" Vinnie sighed, "Nice one."

"No, I inherited her money," Freda spoke very quietly.

"Inherited?" Charley echoed, "Oh! Awww, Freda I'm so sorry."

"Your Mom's - well not with us still Freda ma'am?" Modo asked gently.

"No, she passed over ten years ago. Cancer," Freda's voice was steady, but no one missed the tears coursing down her face. Modo decided to throw caution to the wind and gave Freda an awkward one arm hug despite the fact that she was still in Throttle's arms.

"Yeeesh, that's bad – did she – did she have it a long time?" Charley queried sympathetically.

"Yeah, since I was like 7 – but she and Dad never told me. It was a sleeping myeloma in her spine, and then when I was about 13 she had a riding accident and the tumour became active – a smouldering myeloma I think the doctors called it. After that it was a downhill ride until one day she just wasn't there anymore," Freda wept openly.

"Awww, honey," Throttle nuzzled Freda's hair.

"So how old were you?" Vinnie asked softly.

"15," Freda sniffed.

"Yikes – so halfway through studying for some of the most important exams of your life your Mom died?" Charley gasped, at Freda's nod Charley rolled her eyes heavenward, "Sometimes life really loves throwing curveballs huh?"

"Sometimes, but then if Mom hadn't died I doubt I'd have got to meet my Aunt Yui," Freda shrugged, "her and Mom were real close, but when Mom moved to the U.K. they didn't see each other. It's the one regret both Mom and Aunt Yui had – that they never made the effort to meet up again."

"Aunt Yui?" Charley queried.

"Yeah, my Gran'dam had six kids, my Uncle Theodore, Uncle Ray, Uncle Gaylord, Uncle Darcy, Joyce – that's my Mom, and Uncle Rider. Uncle Rider and Mom were real close, Mom was the only one who never criticised Uncle Rider's behaviour or decisions. He was the black sheep of the family you could say," Freda paused, "things bumbled along ok I guess – things weren't always comfortable, but the family tried to get along reasonably well. Then Uncle Rider got married at 16."

"Whoa!" Vinnie's jaw dropped.

"Oh Momma!" Modo groaned.

"Heck," Throttle winced at the idea of a kid getting married at 16. Only Charley seemed unsurprised.

"So the family disapproved because he was too young?" the mechanic queried.

"Nope –they disapproved of the lady, you see Aunt Yui is Japanese," Freda grinned.

"Ah – big mistake," Charley frowned, "not that I personally disapprove, but I can understand your family's reaction."

"It gets worse; she's the daughter of an infamous Yakuza boss. Mom was the only one who went to the wedding, she and Aunt Yui became good friends; it was Aunt Yui that taught Mom martial arts," Freda smiled and pulled out of Throttle's arms, "then she taught me."

"Ack!" Vinnie choked, he didn't know much about earth history, but Yakuza was one word he recognised.

"So your Aunt Yui and your Mom never saw each other after your Mom moved to the U.K.? I can see why they would have both regretted that, but I'm guessing she came to the funeral – which would be how you met her?" Charley reasoned.

"Uh-huh, there was a huge group of folks who came all dressed in western mourning dress. Aunt Yui turned up in a beautiful dark green kimono with dragons on it. I knew it had to be her as soon as she got out of the car," Freda admitted, "Mom had told me a bit about her. After the funeral she talked to my Dad and suggested that she stick around for a while. Dad was so pathetically relieved; Mom's death destroyed him in so many ways. So Aunt Yui moved in, she had her own way of doing things, but she got me and my Dad through the worst of our grief. That's when I found out that Uncle Rider had cancer too. Originally Dad didn't want me to meet him, but Aunt Yui persuaded him that I should meet my Mom's favourite brother. In the end we all went; Uncle Rider was really ill, but he was so cheerful and full of life – just like Mom had been. We went to basketball games, historical sites, museums and we even took a trip to Yellowstone. In some ways meeting Uncle Rider showed me that Mom hadn't died; she was still alive in the people who had known and loved her."

"So is your Uncle..." Modo gulped.

"No, he survived – barely. He lost a lung and a kidney to the disease, but he beat it. He and Aunt Yui live near Muskegon now," Freda smiled and leaned against the book shelves behind her.

"So I guess that's part of why you moved here – you're near enough to visit, but not right on top of them," Charley winked conspiratorially.

"After a fashion," Freda laughed, knowing what Charley meant. They'd agreed not to tell the bro's why Freda had really picked Chi-town as a place to set up home. Freda was beginning to see what Charley meant about how much fun could be had from teasing the three Martian males.

"Huh," Vinnie grunted, "so will your Aunt and Uncle visit?"

"Probably," Freda grinned, "they'd love you guys."

"Ah ah – no, Freda, seriously we need to keep a low profile," Throttle shook his head.

"You mean like the low profile where pretty much everyone knows you guys are mice, and doesn't actually give two hoots considering how often you save this city's rear end?" Freda raised her eyebrows.

"Oh," Throttle gulped.

* * *

Yeah - I wrote this with a box of tissues very close to hand :)

Please review and/or leave constructive criticism :D


	9. Chapter 9 - Injury

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

_***Okay! for anyone who skipped the last chapter - Charley and the bro's help Freda unpack some of her books, dvds etc whilst chatting. They discover Freda stresses relatively easily and Throttle is able to identify with some of what Freda says about stress. Freda comes from a predominantly academic family on her Dad's side, and her Mom was American. She gets on relatively well with her Dad's family, but isn't so keen on her Mom's folks. Her Mom's family are rich and her American Grandmother has a tendency to meddle in other people's affairs. So Freda's wealth comes from the family business and her inheritance from her Mom. Her Mom died when she was fifteen and it was at this time she first met one of her American Uncles and his wife, who is Japanese; they live in Muskegon and the chapter finishes with Freda pointing out that Throttle can hardly object to meeting her Aunt and Uncle as most of Chicago knows about them being mice already and don't actually mind considering the bro's save the city on a regular basis. :D hope this is an ok round up - I'm not brilliant at them, but this is the main points_. :)

* * *

Chapter 9 – Injury

Carbine's eyes flicked toward the movement she'd just caught out of the corner of her eye. Stoker appeared next to her and folded his arms.

"How much longer?" the aging General enquired.

"Not much – we should be there in about ten minutes in fact," Carbine replied tightly, "how's Rimfire holding up?"

"He's in a bad way," Stoker shook his head, "maybe we should have tried going back to Mars. I know the bro's and Charley will do all they can, but none of them are medically trained."

Carbine let her mind wander back to the events of the past two days; their take off from Mars had been too perfect, no Plutarkian presence at all. Just over a day had passed when the Plutarkians had struck hard and fast. How the three of them had fought off the Plutarkians that had tried boarding their ship Carbine didn't know, but they had. It wasn't until after the small Plutarkian vessel had beaten a hasty retreat that she and Stoker had missed the young Freedom Fighter. She and Stoker had searched the ship frantically before finding Rimfire bleeding out on the bridge. She glanced at the area on the floor where blood stains were still horrifyingly visible and sighed deeply.

Stoker placed a reassuring hand on his niece's shoulder; he sighed deeply, his own mind reliving the horror of the trip. He'd fought side by side with the kid against the Plutarkian boarders before they were separated; Rimfire had run after the fish-faced goons that were headed for the bridge, Stoker had carried on beating back the tide that still threatened to board. He'd heard an explosion coming from the direction of the bridge, but thought nothing of it. Rimfire knew better than to get caught like that. The Plutarkians had left rather hurriedly after that; Stoker had leant back against a wall panting for breath. Carbine had soon joined him asking where Rimfire had disappeared to. They'd approached the bridge cautiously; there was no sign of the enemy anywhere. Stoker had sworn badly at the mess facing them. It'd been Carbine who'd first spotted Rimfire's boot sticking out from under some of the wreckage. Swearing profusely Stoker had shifted the twisted metal away from Rimfire; the amount of blood coating the metal closest to the kid made Stoker feel sick to his gut. The sight of the metal cord that been twisted round Rimfire's wrists and attached to one of the pilot's seats left both mice cold at the thought. Someone had deliberately set a bomb and made sure the kid couldn't get away. Stoker closed his eyes at the memory of the injuries covering Rimfire's body; he didn't know how long the kid could last, but he and Carbine had reached the decision to carry onto earth. Neither knew how Modo would take the news of his nephew's tragic injuries.

They were ten minutes away; their communicator had been blown up in the same explosion that had left Rimfire unconscious so there was no hope of having medical assistance waiting. Carbine had opted to land the ship near Charley's garage rather than at the board. Stoker had agreed warily, Charley did have more medical supplies and know how than the bro's; it was just a pity she didn't have a medical degree.

"Buckle up," Carbine warned as she began the descent. Stoker flopped into the nearest seat and fastened the straps around himself. Rimfire was already strapped down in his quarters, but Stoker still felt guilty over leaving the kid.

"Sure hope Charley girl is up for a challenge," Stoker breathed as the Last Chance came into view.

"Great – Throttle wasn't kidding about Charley having a new neighbour," Carbine hissed in annoyance.

"Too late," Stoker warned, "we can't go flying back up in the air without attracting more attention – just go down Carbine."

Freda watched the ship descend behind the Last Chance, glimmering in the late afternoon sun; she knew Charley was already over there working on the bikes with the bro's, she looked down at the plan she was working on. The garden was going to be a tricky one Freda mused, with such limited space she would be unable to recreate the sprawling garden she'd had in Gloucestershire. She gazed beyond the land she'd bought and out at the waste the stink fish known as Limburger had created. A slow smile crept across her face; she'd never been a shrinking violet when it came to challenges or facing off against bullies.

Charley and the bro's watched the craft descend with puzzled looks; they'd had no communication as to the time of landing, and it was odd that Carbine had picked the garage rather than the scoreboard as a landing place. Familiar feelings of worry began stirring through the group as the ship settled; Charley folded her arms and stood back watching the bro's. Vinnie was pacing restlessly; Modo chewing his nails, a sign of deep perturbation for the large mouse; and Throttle was stock still, arms folded and chewing his bottom lip. When the door finally opened only Carbine stepped out; her face was grave.

"Where's Stoker?" Vinnie demanded.

"And Rimfire?" Modo added. Carbine looked at Throttle pleadingly before turning her gaze to Modo.

"We were attacked by the Plutarkians on the way here; Rimfire got hurt real bad," Carbine hung her head, "I'm sorry Modo."

"What? No! Rimfire!" Modo clenched his fists as Carbine's words sunk in. Throttle placed a steadying hand on Modo's arm.

"It'll be ok bro," Throttle whispered. Charley froze for a few seconds before quietly slipping over to Vinnie.

"Get them to bring Rimfire to Freda's as fast as they can," Charley murmured quietly in the white mouse's ear. Vinnie looked startled at the command, but nodded firmly. Charley broke into a flat out run as she rounded the corner of the garage; luckily Freda spotted her and met her.

"Modo's nephew Rimfire is hurt bad – can you help?" Charley gasped.

"Charley – I'm a historian not a doctor..." Freda gasped in shock. Charley knew Freda had a first aid certificate and had studied medieval medicine, but her knowledge was very limited apart from that. Freda ran her hand round to the back of her neck and groaned.

"You know more than I do – and we can't take him to a hospital," Charley explained quietly, "I told Vinnie to bring them over here already."

Freda raised an eyebrow; Charley wouldn't have invited people over without her prior knowledge without good reason. Freda sighed and strode back into the house; she opened the cupboard under the stairs and rummaged for a moment before reappearing with a large bag. Noises from the kitchen betokened the arrival of the mice with Charley.

"Seriously! We can't just waltz into someone's house!" a female voice sounded off in exasperation.

"Modo!" the voice was male, and Freda immediately identified the speaker as Stoker even though she hadn't seen him for months.

"Look Freda already knows about us," Throttle shouted over the din.

"Freda? Freda's here – I mean this is the Freda I met right?" Stoker sounded excited. Freda smiled, so the old rogue remembered.

"You know Freda?" Vinnie sounded shocked. Modo had made it into the hall carrying his unconscious nephew and stared at Freda standing with the bag held ready.

"Upstairs – come on," Freda ordered. Modo immediately obeyed. The others had clattered into the hall and stood watching Modo follow the human woman.

"Alright would someone care to tell me just what is going on here?" the female Martian snapped, "No? Fine, well I'll just enjoy wandering round in the dark then."

* * *

Freda's typical of a lot of female re-enactors in that she is first aid trained, there are blokes who do first aid as well but it's more common for the women to worry over it. Also a lot of re-enactors have a slightly freaky fascination with old fashioned medicine...

Please review and/or leave constructive criticism :D


	10. Chapter 10 - Waking Up

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

* * *

Chapter 10 – Waking Up

Freda led Modo into a light airy room below her own. Modo halted just inside the doorway.

"Freda ma'am," the mouse gulped looking around at the hand quilted patchwork quilt and beautiful furnishings. Freda stripped the quilt and the majority of the bedding off the bed before indicating Modo should bring Rimfire over. Modo slowly and gingerly laid his nephew down on the bed. Freda barely waited for Modo to move out of the way before she began stripping Rimfire's torn and bloodstained clothes off; swatting Modo's shaking hands away whenever they appeared in her vision. The others had followed more slowly. Carbine and Stoker looked deadbeat, but Freda knew suggesting they sleep now was a lost cause. She frowned as she took in the full extent of the young mouse's injuries; common sense told her to get the wounds clean, but she was unsure how a Martian would react to human medicines.

"Charley I need hot salty water and rags for the wounds, and cold water to try and control his fever – put ice in it. Vinnie go and get blankets from the airing cupboard. Throttle I need you to ram-raid my book shelves for anything on medicine or healing. Modo – sit down before you fall down. And you two," Freda glared at Carbine and Stoker, "in or out – not in the doorway."

"Yes ma'am," Stoker gave a mocking salute before stepping into the room and perching on the wide window sill. Carbine hurriedly followed suit; watching Freda closely all the while. Modo sat down in an armchair near the bed head and rocked backwards and forwards, his hands covering his mouth and the lower part of his face as he watched Freda begin work.

Charley reappeared with two earthenware bowls, one let off a wreath of salty smelling steam, whilst sounds of ice chinking against the sides came from the other.

"Give the cold water to Modo – thanks Charley. Modo I need you to keep a cold rag on Rimfire's forehead okay?" the giant nodded and began wringing out the first cloth, Freda turned to Charley, "I need you to help me – we need to clean these wounds up fast."

Charley looked at the wounds all over Rimfire's body; most of them had already gone badly septic. Her eyes widened.

"How?" at Charley's questioning glance Stoker and Carbine exchanged a look.

"We don't know," Carbine replied dryly, "we did clean and dress the wounds as best we could, but it hasn't done any good has it?"

"It's better than if you'd done nothing. Sometimes wounds go septic no matter how carefully they're cleaned up after the injury occurred," Freda's brow furrowed in concentration as she bathed blood and pus from one of the many deep gashes on the young mouse's body.

"How do ya know?" Modo asked in a shaky voice staring at Freda's calm and collected movements.

"I was a very accident prone child, but I was always very well cared for. I certainly put my parents through their paces when it came to patching me up! So I know that sometimes even the tenderest care will not prevent infection," Freda smiled reassuringly, "rather than asking what wasn't done in cleaning the wounds up, we should rather ask how clean was what caused these wounds in the first place?"

"It was filthy," Carbine admitted.

"Well you can't keep a spaceship clean all over – I mean the front of the panelling looked ok, but the back was revolting," Stoker grimaced.

"Then I doubt there's anything more you two could have done to prevent this," Freda smiled at Carbine and Stoker, "I'm guessing you had limited water and medical supplies?"

Stoker nodded glumly staring at the torn and infected body on the bed.

"He ain't woken yet," Stoker pointed out.

"With what we're doing that's probably a good thing," Freda shook her head; "the pain would be bad, real bad."

"Where do you want these?" Vinnie asked from the doorway, his arms full of blankets.

"Anywhere, we don't need them immediately – it's fairly warm in here," Freda barely looked up as she continued working. Modo changed the cloth on Rimfire's forehead; Rimfire let out a small sigh, Freda glanced at her patient to ensure he wasn't waking up before continuing the grim task before her. Vinnie silently picked up a rag and watched Freda and Charley as they cleaned Rimfire's wounds. Deftly the white mouse mimicked their actions in order to help; Carbine's eyebrows shot up as she realised she and Stoker could do the same. She nudged her now dozing Uncle and pointed; Stoker nodded grimly.

An hour later the wounds were all clean, and had been disinfected with surgical alcohol. Charley looked at Freda's bag in curiosity as Freda began rummaging. Bandages, padding, dressings, scissors, suture kit, plaster, antiseptic creams and gels; Charley was beginning to wonder how much Freda had squirreled in the bag! A groan from the bed drew everyone's attention.

"What..." Rimfire opened his eyes groggily, he felt so heavy and so ill. He cast his eyes toward the apparent light source in the unfamiliar room and saw a strange human. He started up violently only to be pressed back down gently, but firmly. Turning he saw his Uncle beaming down at him with tears in his eyes.

"Uncle Modo?" Rimfire croaked, his eyes narrowing to try and compensate for his head spinning.

"It's ok nephew – yer at a friend of Charley ma'am's, she's patching ya up," Modo spoke gently and was rewarded by Rimfire immediately relaxing back into the bed.

"Charley, could you get a glass of water for him?" Freda asked quietly. Charley nodded and padded off to get a glass from the kitchen. Freda busied herself preparing dressings, and then paused.

"What is it?" Stoker asked nervously from behind her.

"Nothing, just an idea – Vinnie go and get all the honey you can find from the kitchen," Freda looked at the now puzzled mouse; Vinnie rolled his eyes at the seemingly random request and followed Charley downstairs.

"Honey?" Modo looked completely nonplussed.

"You'll see," Freda smiled, "Rimfire right?"

She waited for Rimfire to respond; at first it seemed like he'd dozed off, but there was a slow, almost imperceptible nod of response.

"I'm Freda, I moved in next door to Charley about ten days ago now. I need to ask you some crazy stuff, but it'll help tell us how bad you're hurt okay?" Freda spoke slowly and clearly, always keeping in mind that English wasn't the Martian's first language. Modo nodded encouragingly and Rimfire forced his eyes open.

"Okay," Rimfire squinted, the light was obviously hurting him so Freda motioned to Stoker to pull the blinds down.

"Light hurts huh?" Freda asked, Rimfire gave a small nod, "Okay – now can you tell how many fingers I'm holding up?"

Rimfire pulled a face as he squinted at Freda's upheld hand.

"Three," he replied, Freda nodded and lowered her hand. Charley and Vinnie reappeared with a glass of water and several honey pots.

"Modo, just lift his head up enough so he can drink – that's it," Freda carefully held the glass at the right angle for Rimfire to drink. Rimfire gulped at the water greedily before wincing at the pain in his head. His Uncle slowly lowered his head back down.

"Right, you can close your eyes for the rest of my daft questions if you like," Freda spoke softly, Rimfire chuckled, but closed his eyes none the less, "when's your birthday?"

"September 18th," Rimfire replied hesitantly as he translated Martian dates to earth dates for the human, Freda winced slightly at the answer, but hid her discomfort carefully from the mice.

"Cool. Now who's – er – let's see, who's in charge of the Freedom Fighters?" Freda asked, desperately hoping this would be an ok question in place of the usual one.

"General..." Rimfire screwed his face up. Freda placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's ok if you don't know off hand," she reassured.

"It's Stoker or Carbine, I don't know," Rimfire groaned. Modo looked worriedly at Freda who shook her head to quiet the worried mouse.

"Right we'll leave off daft questions on random subjects then," Freda quickly ran through what else she should check in her mind, "ok Rimfire I'm gonna try touching your feet and hands to check your nerves are still working ok?"

Worst explanation ever Freda thought glumly as she moved to the foot of the bed after Rimfire had nodded his consent. Gently she pressed her fingers against different parts of Rimfire's feet to check he could still feel sensation; she repeated the process with his hands.

"Okay, cool. Looks like nothing serious got hit with regards to your body – there's a nasty wound on your abdomen but it's missed any vitals. My main worry is the knock you've taken to the head and the infected cuts," Freda explained, "you're going to need to take it easy for a while – but with the wounds you've got you'll be doing that anyway."

"Okay," Rimfire opened his eyes a crack, "I'm still really thirsty."

"I'll bring a jug of water up," Charley replied with a laugh as she tripped lightly out of the room again.

"Tell you what – would you like a jelly baby?" Freda asked suddenly.

"A what?" Rimfire's eyes went wide before getting screwed shut against the light.

"A jelly baby is a type of sweet," Freda smiled, "I do re-enactment – me and my friends dress up in period clothing and do these amazing events showing how people lived and fought hundreds of years ago. Anyway the champions of any re-enactment are the water carriers and first aiders – they make sure we have water to drink and medical care if we need it. They always carry sweets with them – usually jelly babies!"

"Oh," Rimfire smiled and tried sitting up, "owwww!"

"Modo give me a hand?" Freda gently grasped Rimfire under the arm, and with Modo's help got him up into a sitting position. Deftly moving pillows up behind Rimfire's back so he'd be comfortable. Reaching for her bag she rummaged briefly before appearing triumphantly with a bag of small brightly coloured sweets. Rimfire looked sceptically at them; it'd been years since he'd had sweets.

"You might offer them round – you all look like you could use the sugar," Freda suggested. Rimfire reached into the bag and took a yellow coloured sweet before passing the bag to his Uncle. Modo sniffed suspiciously and chose a red sweet before giving the bag to Vinnie. Vinnie stared at the sweets in amazement, he'd seen human kids with packets of sweets, but had never really had many opportunities to try them. He reached in and took a handful.

"Hey Rookie – leave some for the rest of us?" Stoker snatched the bag away and took a black sweet before tossing the bag to Carbine. Charley walked back in with the water jug.

"Sweets huh?" Charley asked, "Are you sure giving Vinnie sugar is a good idea?"

"You could all use it," Freda cocked an eyebrow at the suspicious looking Carbine. The haughty general took a red sweet and popped it in her mouth. An 'oh' of surprise formed on her lips as the sweet fruity flavour burst into her mouth. Freda smiled; everyone loved jelly babies – except the green ones, most people hated the green ones. Throttle trotted in with an armful of books.

"Got everything," he deposited them on a chest and noted Rimfire was awake, "hey kid – how you doing?"

"Okay I guess," Rimfire glanced down at his wounds.

"Right time to get those wounds dressed young man," Freda spoke in a businesslike manner that brooked no argument. Rimfire looked on in horror as Freda applied dressings coated in honey to the majority of his wounds.

"It'll be sticky, and you'll need to shower to get it off, but it should do the trick on getting the wounds to heal up okay?" Freda explained as she began stitching the wound on Rimfire's stomach. Rimfire nodded watching as Freda deftly stitched him back together. She'd left the wound until last out of cowardice over having to stitch it; in the end it wasn't actually as bad as she'd thought. She carefully dressed it with honey and tied off the bandage. Modo gave a sigh of relief.

"So you didn't need the books?" Throttle asked in disappointment.

"In the end, no, I didn't need them, but I may have done. Besides it gave you something constructive to do didn't it?" Freda cocked an eyebrow at Throttle. She shooed the others out of the room except for Modo.

"Right, you better lay down again Rimfire," Freda ordered, "and what would you like for dinner – apart from hotdogs?"

"Oh," Rimfire looked crestfallen at the banning of hotdogs, but slid down the bed carefully, his face thoughtful. Freda rearranged the pillows for sleeping, and carefully rolled Rimfire first one way and then the other to retrieve the now dirty sheet. She placed the quilt back over the bed, enveloping Rimfire in its delicious warmth. Freda picked up most of the blankets Vinnie had brought in, leaving a couple extra on the side in case they were needed. Rimfire looked like he was still puzzling on food.

"How's about I cook something nice up?" Freda suggested; Rimfire nodded slowly. Freda left the room with the blankets and quietly closed the door. Modo quietly poured his nephew another glass of water and helped him drink it. Rimfire lay awake for a while asking groggy questions before slipping into an uneasy slumber.

Freda placed the blankets back in the airing cupboard, all the while mulling over what to cook for dinner. Something fairly easy would be in order; but something light enough that it wouldn't sit heavy on Rimfire's stomach. Freda frowned; it would need to be relatively nutritious too. She smiled; something like omelettes perhaps. She came downstairs to find Stoker and Throttle both asleep on one of the sofas in the living room and Carbine in the kitchen gazing out of the window.

"Charley and Vinnie said to tell you they were locking up the garage," Carbine said as she turned round to face the human woman.

"Okay, cool beans. I gotta go get some stuff for dinner I think," Freda murmured, as she checked her cupboards.

"Who are you?" Carbine demanded loudly; sounds came from the living room suggesting Carbine had just woken the other two up. Freda stiffened.

"My name is Freda, I met Stoker months ago in England and you can quit barking at me like I'm a wet behind the ears recruit!" Freda's eyes snapped round to glare at Carbine, who shivered at the fiery sparks that seemed to fly out of the angry human's glowering optics.

"Whoa - okay – sorry," Carbine breathed out slowly, "sorry for being suspicious, but Charley kinda marched us in here with no explanations. You did a real good job with Rimfire though. Thank you for that."

"He's not out of the woods yet," Freda shook her head, "not by a long chalk."

"What?" Carbine breathed in sharply, "How? Why?"

"Those wounds are infected, and I didn't just wave a magic wand. We've bathed them and disinfected them, but the underlying infection will still be there – festering away. We need to treat Rimfire every day, three times a day until the wounds start healing properly. He's regained consciousness which is good, but he's had a head injury – quite a serious one," Freda sighed, "like I say we're not out of the woods yet."

"You two finished squaring off yet?" Stoker asked sourly from the kitchen door.

"We weren't squaring off," Carbine looked away in embarrassment.

"Yes you were," Stoker stated simply, he looked across at Freda, "ok kiddo?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Moved to Chicago already," Freda grinned. Stoker strode across and embraced the young human woman warmly. Carbine watched curiously; Freda was so relaxed round Stoker and the bro's. The Martian general's attention suddenly snapped to the large dog that had appeared in the doorway.

"What is that!" Carbine yelled staring at the large shaggy animal.

"Hey! You bought Colonel with you!" Stoker bobbed down and beckoned to the large Old English Sheepdog.

"Colonel?" Carbine hissed.

"That's the dog Carbine," Charley quipped as she and Vinnie came in through the back door. Vinnie chuckled at Carbine's fearful reaction.

"Oh – so her name's Carbine is it?" Freda enquired sarcastically.

"Oh sorry, sorry – Freda this is my niece Carbine; Carbine this is Freda," Stoker performed very belated introductions between the two women. The two eyed Stoker sceptically, before Freda turned to Carbine.

"Well come on then," Freda picked up her purse and headed for the door.

"Huh – what?" Carbine tore her attention from her Uncle and Colonel and looked pointedly at Freda.

"Shopping, you and me, now," Freda walked out; for no reason the female general could fathom, Carbine followed.

* * *

Semi-hot off the proverbial press XD quick note on the medical stuff in this chapter, the modern stuff is me remembering from when I've had accidents; and my memory - like Freda's! - is a little hazy on the exact details, but I remember thinking how random some of the stuff they asked was! The historic stuff is techniques that do actually work but have been moved away from in favour of more modern practices. Freda would probably have run across the info in either historic research or re-enactment based research.

Please review and/or give constructive criticism :D Big hugs to everyone who's reviewed so far! :D


	11. Chapter 11 - Girl Chat

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

* * *

Chapter 11 – Girl Chat

Carbine followed Freda out onto the driveway and hopped into the 4x4 that Freda had unlocked. Carbine looked around curiously, it was her first time in an earth vehicle. The interior was a mess; the back seats had been flattened to provide a large space which was padded out with dog beds. Toys seemed to peek out everywhere and Carbine spotted a large knuckle bone half hidden by a tatty blanket. Evidently the dogs travelled with Freda on a fairly regular basis. The front seat had a large map on it which Carbine carefully moved, the foot-well held a plethora of assorted rubbish; Freda rarely cleaned the vehicle out it would seem.

"Seatbelt," Freda pointed at the black strap with its silver locking device hanging down to Carbine's left. Carbine grasped the belt, pulled it across herself and snapped it into place. As the engine roared noisily into life Carbine came to the decision that she probably preferred motorbikes. Freda shoved the gears into reverse and shot backwards at a speed that left Carbine's stomach behind.

"So, you and Stoker – niece and Uncle huh?" Freda shouted over the roar of the engine as they drove down the street.

"Yes," Carbine bellowed back looking puzzled.

"He talked about you a lot you know," Freda stated, "when he crashed at my place. It was him who suggested I move to Chicago – I already wanted to move to America."

"Oh – that's ok then," Carbine smiled, her head reeling at the revelation of how much Freda actually knew, "so you met the bro's already then?"

"Yeah, Modo and Vinnie pitched up like two nights ago; Throttle the morning after," Freda paused glancing sideways at Carbine, "he's really stressed you know – if he doesn't start to relax pretty soon he's gonna cave under the pressure."

"Throttle?" Carbine looked shocked, "You can tell?"

"Yeah, I know a few people who've had similar problems – including one of my best friends!" Freda shook her head, "I stress easily too; so I know some of what he's going through."

"Heck, with Rimfire down it's not like we could take a load off the bro's right now!" Carbine grimaced.

"Why do you need Rimfire? Why couldn't you swap places with Throttle? He's the one that's stressed! Modo will probably want to stay with Rimfire for the now so you and Stoker could take Vinnie off on patrols and stuff," Freda suggested, "I already recommended they rethink their strategy on the fighting front."

"Rethink how? You do know Stoker doesn't fight anymore?" Carbine asked wincing as Freda hit the brakes for a red light.

"Yeah, Stoker mentioned he does training mostly now; but I'm sure he could keep up in a support role for a few days, just until Throttle's head is sorted. Rethink wise - sabotage Limburger and try keeping an eye on more of the Plutarkians that are actually here," Freda explained as she coaxed a reluctant gear box to co-operate, "overall it'd be likely to make them buzz off somewhere else."

"Got you," Carbine nodded, gripping the sides of the seat as Freda turned a sharp corner, "could be a good plan – but won't it mean more pressure on Throttle in the long run?"

"Shouldn't do, I'll be helping and so will Charley – the bro's just don't know that yet!" Freda laughed.

"What?! You know they'll never weather that don't you?" Carbine pointed out.

"Heh – I've dealt with my fair share of stubborn men!" Freda winked, "I hope you get the chance to meet some re-enactment buddies of mine!"

"Freda! I'm a Martian mouse! I think they might have a problem with that!" Carbine exclaimed in fear.

"I doubt it! We may come from different walks of life but most of us abhor normality in all its guises! So yeah a few six foot Martian mice probably wouldn't bother most of them! Stoker certainly didn't," Freda chuckled at Carbine's incredulous look, "don't worry so much – no one's gonna hand you over to any whacko scientists!"

Freda pulled into the car park at the shop.

"Come on," she called cheerfully to Carbine as she exited the car. Carbine sighed before following suit. This was a bad idea on so many fronts as far as the Martian female was concerned. Steeling herself for the worst Carbine followed Freda in; Freda began picking up the stuff she'd need whilst Carbine stood frozen by the entrance. The General flicked her ears, no screams, no questions; there weren't even any real stares.

"So you related to one of them boys that's taking such good care of the city?" a male voice boomed in Carbine's ear. She turned, startled, to come face to face with a tall, burly man who was evidently the shopkeeper.

"Er yes, after a fashion," Carbine shrugged, "I can leave if you'd like."

"No, no – feel free to stay. Take a look round, dunno what you would like but whatever I'll make a gift of it to yer," the storekeeper gestured to his shop. Carbine scanned the place in surprise; she hadn't expected to be so welcome.

"Just this Bob," Freda hauled her basket onto the counter.

"Back again?" Bob laughed as he began scanning the items through the till. Carbine wandered over to the magazines and smiled as she saw an array of ones on motorbikes. She picked up three and went to the till.

"I'll get those," Freda smiled and reached out for them. Bob reached past her, took them from Carbine and tucked them in the bag.

"They's free," he announced. Freda frowned slightly, before smiling and handing over the money for her shopping. Between them the two women lugged the bags out and stowed them in the trunk of Freda's 4x4. Carbine smiled as a toddler waved to her from a car that had just pulled up; she slowly waved back before buckling up for the ride home.

"Would you like a hand with dinner?" Carbine asked as they came to a shuddering halt on Freda's drive.

"Can you cook?" Freda asked quizzically.

"Not really," Carbine admitted sheepishly.

"Come on then, I'll teach ya some stuff," Freda slammed the door, retrieved the shopping and locked the vehicle. In the kitchen she busied herself getting out what they would need for the meal.

"Oi!" Freda shouted through to the living room, "Who said anything about starting the second series whilst me n Carbine were out?"

"No one, we just did!" Vinnie laughed.

"Rookie!" Stoker growled; the sounds of a mock fight starting coming from the living room.

"What are you watching?" Carbine asked curiously as she put the magazines to one side.

"A drama set during the English Civil War, the bro's seem quite taken with it," Freda chuckled, "probably best if we start again at the beginning for you and Stoker though."

"History? You got Vinnie into history?" Carbine gasped.

"It's a good series!" Freda laughed, "Right omelettes! First we need to prepare the fillings and get the pan nice and hot."

Carbine was amazed at how easy Freda made things in the kitchen. Between them they not only got together the makings of the omelettes, but a batch of the bro's favourite cookies. Carbine was surprised when Freda left her in charge of cooking so she could slip up to check on Modo and Rimfire. When the human returned her face was grim.

"Rimfire's fever's already up again," Freda warned, "they're both asleep currently, I'd say let them sleep their fill then they can eat."

Carbine nodded grimly. Soon those who were still up were sitting round the table enjoying the omelettes Freda and Carbine had cooked up. Everyone seemed much more relaxed than earlier, which was all to the good as far as Freda was concerned. She'd persuaded all of them to camp over at her place whilst Rimfire was so ill. She'd also surreptitiously dispatched Charley over to the garage to send a message to Mars via her communicator summoning any of Rimfire's family who were willing to make the trip. Charley hadn't sounded hopeful over the results, but Freda had nodded quietly. She didn't know how the Martian Military worked let alone the Freedom Fighters, but it's what they'd have done in the U.K. so she guessed it probably hold good wherever.

Modo's sudden appearance ended the general feeling of high spirits.

"Rimfire's fevers up, n' he's moaning n' thrashing around something terrible," Modo's tail lashed agitatedly from side to side as he spoke.

"Carbine cook up some more omelettes for Modo; Modo the best thing you can do now is eat – you have to stay strong," Freda had already gotten up and walked to the door. She squeezed Modo's good arm reassuringly before heading upstairs again. Modo sank heavily into one of the old wooden kitchen chairs that wasn't already occupied. Carbine stood up and began heating the pan up for more omelettes, quietly confident about cooking for the first time in her life. Modo raised a quizzical eyebrow to his friends; they just shrugged. Throttle quietly got up and disappeared after Freda.

Rimfire looked to be in a real mess. He was far too hot and Freda had no clue what human drugs would do to the Martian mouse. Freda groaned as Rimfire shifted restlessly. She wished again that Charley hadn't saddled her with the problem, but from what Charley had said she'd only patched up injuries that were relatively easy to heal up on the bro's. Freda reckoned broken bones and wounds caused by lasers were serious, but Charley had brushed it off with a laugh and a smile. She rubbed her forehead thoughtfully, neither she nor Charley had any experience or training for this situation; even the mice didn't seem knowledgeable on what to do. Throttle appeared in the doorway breaking Freda's pessimistic line of thought.

"Anything I can do?" the tan furred leader asked quietly.

"Are there any Martian medical supplies on that ship? Mainly I'm asking about anti-fever stuff? Or should I risk giving him human stuff?" Freda asked.

"Hmmm, unlikely to be anything on the ship; some stuff works on us I think – Charley would be the one to ask though," Throttle said before disappearing to do just that.

"Come on Rimfire, work with me here," Freda pleaded as she fought to lower the young mouse's temperature with cold water. Throttle reappeared.

"Charley says she doesn't know, she mainly tried painkillers due to the injuries we got fighting fish face and his cronies," Throttle shrugged, "sorry Freda girl."

"No worries," Freda sighed, "guess we'll fight this the old fash... ioned way?"

"What is it Freda?" Throttle asked in concern.

"Throttle tell Charley to go get Indian Tonic Water! Preferably the strongest she can get – hurry!" Freda paused, "medicine chest..."

Throttle stared at her blankly. Freda rose and pushed the mouse out of the door.

"Now! Throttle, now!" Freda ran to her room and pulled a small wooden chest from under her bed. She fumbled with the key; now if only she had some knowledge as to how to prepare the stuff. She grasped her prize and ran back into the room where Rimfire lay. She set the small box down and picked up one of her books on historical medicine. Surely one of them would tell her what she needed to know.

Throttle raced downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Charley, Freda asks can you go and get Indian Tonic Water," Throttle paused verifying in his own mind that he'd got the name right, "the strongest you can get."

"Indian Tonic Water?" Charley frowned, "That's a soft drink."

"I don't know –but I think Freda's on to something!" Throttle chivvied Charley out of the door.

"Some kinda medicine?" Modo suggested hopefully.

"Yeah, but then Charley girl would know what it was then wouldn't she?" Vinnie pointed out, the very idea of reassurance lost on him.

Charley returned an hour later loaded down with the strongest bottles of tonic water she could find. She'd had to ask what would be strongest; luckily an old guy in the shop had appeared to know the answer. The mice looked sceptical, but helped her haul it upstairs. They found Freda poring over the books Throttle had left earlier.

"What's wrong Freda ma'am?" Modo asked worriedly.

"Nothing Modo – I'm just trying to find something to help Rimfire," Freda answered distantly, "from now on Rimfire's drinking tonic water – it might help him, if it doesn't it shouldn't harm him."

"Ah, ok – so what exactly is in this stuff?" Stoker asked sceptically looking at a bottle he'd pulled out of a bag.

"An old human remedy – I'll explain when it works and I'm not busy," Freda swatted at Stoker who had started peering over at the page she was skim reading. The others left except for Modo, who set up a vigil in a chair on the other side of the bed. Freda kept reading through the night, desperate for the answer to her question.

* * *

:D just as a small heads up - I'm working on a tentative theory that most people in the local area of where the bro's, Charley and Limburger live are going to know about the bro's being mice - thus they don't worry too much when giant mice walk in ;)

And for those wondering what is in that Tonic Water - read on ;)

Please review and/or leave constructive criticism :D


	12. Chapter 12 - Tonic Water Medicine

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

XD finally Primer makes an appearance! Bit of a short one but I am working on something else that Primer comes into a lot more XD

* * *

Chapter 12 – Tonic Water Medicine

Two days had passed since the Martian craft had landed and Freda still hadn't found what she was looking for. The evening shadows were lengthening and Freda was beginning to wonder if anyone had given a thought to dinner yet. Modo had fallen asleep to the sound of her singing softly to herself in the chair on the other side of the bed and the others were no doubt asleep downstairs. The sound of an engine drew her attention and she looked out of the window to see another craft coming into land. She woke Modo.

"What is it Freda ma'am?" the grey mouse blinked sleepily and looked at Rimfire. Freda sighed; Modo's first thoughts were always for his nephew.

"Company from Mars," Freda pointed at the window. Modo looked out and gasped at the sight. He thundered off downstairs.

The others had already heard the noise of the ship and were sleepily moving to investigate. Charley hung back knowing full well who'd be on the ship.

"It's a Martian craft!" Modo announced loudly.

"Well who could that be?" Stoker wondered before following the others to the back door. The small ship settled in Freda's backyard and the group waited patiently for the crew to emerge. Modo's jaw dropped as he saw the first person emerge.

"Momma?" Modo breathed before hurrying forward to greet her.

"Where's Rimfire? We had a message saying to come that he'd been seriously hurt," Momma looked around Modo at the others. Modo stood silently staring down at his mother as if she weren't real.

"Hey Uncle Modo!" a female voice called.

"Primer!" Modo was overjoyed to see his wayward niece, although he was also curious as to what she and his Momma were doing on Earth.

"How did that ship get here?" Carbine asked icily, not really wanting to know the answer.

"I took it," Primer shrugged, "problem General?"

"Yes, multiple," Carbine hissed.

"Where's Rimfire?" Momma repeated her earlier question.

"This way Mrs – um, Momma," Charley indicated the house. Modo's Momma immediately followed the earth woman who seemed to know where her grandson was.

"Did you think to bring drugs with you?" Throttle asked Primer seriously.

"No but I bought the next best thing!" Primer stated proudly.

"And what's that?" Stoker asked rubbing his temples.

"Grandmomma!" Primer announced happily.

"Just the two of you – no one else?" Carbine queried her voice cold with fury.

"Ummmmm," Primer looked incredibly shamefaced.

"Fine, fine," but you travel back with us ok?" Carbine snapped at Primer.

"Yeah, ok," Primer looked miffed at the idea of being escorted back. She sidestepped Carbine and hurried into the house.

Charley led Momma to the homely room where Rimfire lay deathly still on the bed. Freda was mixing some poisonous looking concoction over a small burner that she'd set up on a chest of drawers. Her eyes were smudged a worrying shade of dark grey from lack of sleep and she looked haggard.

"Freda – this is Modo's Momma," Charley attracted her friend's attention, "and I think you may have slightly pissed Carbine off."

"Oh, bother Carbine! Welcome Momma – Modo's told me a lot about you," Freda strode over and hugged the gentle looking Martian woman. Momma relaxed into the hug of the woman who was evidently fighting to save her grandson's life.

"Thank you both for sending for me and Primer!" Momma sighed heavily, "It was a shock; but less so than hearing he'd died without ever knowing he'd been injured!"

"No worries Momma," Charley smiled, "it was the least we could do."

"Why don't we get the kettle on Charley – I'm sure everyone could use a hot drink right now?" Freda suggested as Momma sat by her grandson in the chair Modo had been using. Primer appeared in the doorway looking breathless.

"Rimfire?" she breathed staring at her brother in horror, "Mother of Mars, no."

Freda hugged the younger Martian mouse.

"It'll be ok," Freda assured her. Primer joined her Grandmomma at Rimfire's side. Charley and Freda slipped downstairs to find an exceedingly angry Carbine waiting for them in the living room. Freda groaned and mentally geared herself for a slanging match with the feisty Martian General.

"Right! Before you two start – I think Freda and Charley did the right thing," Stoker announced loudly from the dubious safety of the kitchen doorway, "so Primer bought the ship down to leave with the bro's and hitches a lift back with the rest of us – ok Carbine?"

Carbine growled, her tail still switching, but she seemed willing to let it lie; for the time being at least. Freda strode into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Reaching for mugs she looked at the others.

"Would your Momma like tea or coffee Modo?" Freda asked politely of the grey furred Martian male.

"Coffee," Modo answered in surprise. Freda made a large pot and poured out mugs for everyone when it was ready. She beckoned Modo and with his help took up not only mugs of coffee but some of her cookies for the family to share.

"Modo," Freda spoke quietly as they mounted the stairs, "I need to try and get Rimfire to drink some medicine soon. Will your folks be ok leaving for a while?"

Modo nodded confirmation. Freda left the drinks and cookies with the family; Primer sat munching cookies mechanically. Freda chuckled; evidently comfort eating wasn't a uniquely human reaction. Freda walked slowly back downstairs. After all the days and nights of research it had finally paid off. She had found the answer to her question. As for the tonic water it had helped reduce Rimfire's fever quite well, much to the surprise of the others.

"Everything ok up there?" Stoker asked as Freda entered the kitchen. He had already helped himself to cookies and the others were slowly following suit.

"Yes, I thought a little family time might be in order," Freda poured herself a cold drink. The mice had quickly learnt Freda did not like hot drinks of any description. She flumped down in a chair and groaned.

"What about whatever it is you've been reading up on?" Charley looked hopefully at her friend.

"Found out how to make it and made it," Freda grinned, "I've a dose all ready to go – and yes it does work."

"What is it?" Carbine asked curiously, her earlier annoyances forgotten.

"Quinine," Freda smiled happily, the black rings round her eyes only to evident to her friends keen eyes.

"Ohhhh!" Charley squealed making the mice jump, "I have heard of that! I just didn't know it was in tonic water!"

Freda nodded tiredly.

"The tonic water has helped control Rimfire's temperature a bit so I already know it works, that's why I kept up researching until I discovered a clue to making the wretched stuff up in stronger batches," Freda rubbed her eyes and glared at her shaking hands.

"Quinine? What is that?" Throttle asked curiously, Stoker nodded in agreement with the question as he sipped his coffee.

"It comes from the Cinchona tree in its natural state, but it can also be synthesised in a lab. It was used in early fever treatments – particularly against malaria," Freda explained. Vinnie wrinkled his brows.

"So it's a tree? And what's malaria? Can we get it?" Vinnie sounded puzzled.

"Well quinine comes from the bark of the Cinchona tree. Malaria is a disease that humans get from being bitten by infected mosquitoes; it can be deadly even today. As for whether you guys can get it – I have no blasted idea," Freda yawned. Momma and Primer appeared with half empty coffee mugs and an empty plate from the cookies.

"Modo said we should rest up a bit," Momma explained.

"There are beds free upstairs," Freda beckoned.

"Oh we couldn't impose on you!" Momma sounded horrified at the thought.

"You're not imposing on me," Freda shook her head, "I asked you here technically, now come on – you're not sleeping in that tin box you call a ship."

Carbine snorted loudly. Freda led the way back upstairs, showing her guests into comfortable rooms with large double beds. Primer squeaked in delight at the sight of the patchwork quilt and crocheted blankets covering the bed in the room Freda had shown her to; she quickly took her boots off and stripped her outer clothing off. Attired in nothing but her underwear and a thin t-shirt she slipped under the quilt and quickly fell asleep. In another room, Momma sat down in a chair and stared thoughtfully out of the window for a time whilst she finished her coffee. She scanned the room; it was a beautiful room, Freda had very good taste in furnishings. Momma felt perfectly at home and very comfortable, she sighed. A small lay down probably wouldn't do any harm; she laid down fully clothed ready to get up quickly if needed.

Freda, with Modo's help, managed to get a dose of the stronger quinine into Rimfire with some difficulty.

"Whew! Sorry Freda ma'am!" Modo gasped, recovering his breath from their fight with Rimfire.

"It will taste very bitter; I'm guessing Rimfire doesn't like bitter tasting stuff!" Freda laughed. A knock sounded at the door and Stoker walked in.

"Bed both of you, I'll wake you if anything happens," Stoker ordered firmly.

"Aye aye," Freda threw a smart salute and marched out. Modo cast a long look at his nephew before he slowly left as well.

"Modo," Freda caught the mouse outside of the room Rimfire occupied and motioned for him to follow, "sleep in here."

"Awww, Freda ma'am, you don't have to," Modo murmured as he looked into the bedroom Freda had led him too. He and the other mice hadn't really looked round the house much, out of a simple respect for Freda's privacy. From what they had seen downstairs Freda had good homely tastes in the way she decorated and furnished her home.

"No, but I want to," Freda said emphatically in answer to the mouse's polite refusal. Modo smiled and stepped into the room; unlike downstairs this room had a definite masculine feel to it. The quilted bedspread on the heavyset four-poster was a cheerful mix of blues; the furniture was more solid, with less carving and more solidarity to it and the decor was very simple. Pictures of mighty sailing ships hung on the walls and the room had an overall nautical feel to it; Modo sighed, he could get used to a room like this one.

"Guys!" Freda called down the stairs. Throttle appeared seconds later.

"Did something happen to Rimfire?" He called up worriedly.

"No, just get your backsides up here," Freda called back. They came stumbling upstairs, too tired to even argue over going to bed upstairs. Freda shoved Vinnie in a room she'd decorated with her paternal Grandfather in mind. The room was painted cream, but the furniture was upholstered in bright red fabric with brass detailing. The quilt was red too and Vinnie flopped down onto it gratefully, belatedly thinking he should really remove his boots. The thought came too late; he was sound asleep before he'd so much as twitched a muscle.

Carbine had fallen in love with the room Freda had picked for her as soon she saw it; it had been decorated in a medieval fashion. Wall paintings and hangings depicted mythical beasts, and scenes from old legends; everything felt heavy and warm. It was all Carbine could do to kick her boots off, pull her flak vest off and crawl into bed. Charley occupied another blue room, although this one was definitely more feminine than Modo's owing to the floral decor and lighter, more feminine furnishings. Throttle found himself in a room painted mid-green; the bed with its green and cream quilt was a welcoming sight. Like Modo and Vinnie's rooms Throttle's was more masculine, begging the question in the mouse's mind as to why Freda would take such care to have rooms men would like in her house. He stripped down to his jeans and crawled under the quilt wondering sleepily if Freda had designed and made it. It certainly looked like she had.

* * *

So yup, Indian Tonic Water is still flavoured with quinine, originally it would have been much stronger though :)

Another quick note - Freda comes from a predominantly academic family [academics often travel - a lot!] but does also have a few family members who are military, her contacting Momma and Primer would be a natural thing to do so far as she is concerned.

Please review and/or leave constructive criticism :)


	13. Chapter 13 - Absent Friends

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

* * *

Chapter 13 – Absent Friends

Freda lay dozing in the early morning sun cocooned in her own hand made quilt; it was Freda's favourite, made up of bright autumnal colours. She sluggishly rolled out of bed and stretched. She'd dosed Rimfire with more quinine the previous night aided by Stoker; after that she'd left Stoker to keep a dozy watch on the young Martian. She stood up and silently padded barefoot downstairs to Rimfire's room on the first floor. Entering quietly she found Stoker sound asleep in the chair nearest the window with Rimfire curled to one side of the bed sleeping peacefully. She felt the young mouse's forehead trying to gage his temperature; he felt a lot cooler than he had been.

"Freda?" a very groggy sounding Stoker blinked sleepily at Freda.

"Morning," Freda smiled.

"No it is not," Stoker grumbled holding his head in his hands.

"Coffee help perhaps?" Freda suggested.

"Can you get me one too?" a weak voice came from the bed; Freda looked down to find Rimfire squinting owlishly up at her.

"How are you feeling?" Freda asked in concern.

"Like I've been to hell and back," Rimfire groaned, "guess my wounds were worse than I thought."

"You've been out for the count with a fever for over two days Rimfire – that's bound to make you feel unwell. Your wounds are fine, I've been redressing them regularly and by some miracle they're starting to heal," Freda sighed, "are you sure you want coffee?"

"Yeah," Rimfire nodded. Stoker looked at Freda with a new found admiration. He'd had a great deal of respect for the young human female before they landed; she had after all patched him up after he crashed, but the way she'd fought to save Rimfire was something else.

"Coffee it is then," Freda beamed, "and I'd better make a check on supplies for breakfast! I bet everyone's going to be pretty hungry."

She made her way slowly downstairs, humming as she went, and put the kettle on. A quiet presence at her side drew her attention, and she reached down to gently scratch Kizzy's ears. The Lord alone knew her animals had put up with a lot over the past two days; their meal times had been all over the place, they'd been left with strangers, walked by strangers and slept with strangers. Freda knelt down and hugged the skinny dog close; tears falling softly into Kizzy's fur. When she stood up she found Stoker watching her.

"You were gone a long time little one," Stoker smiled softly before embracing Freda. She returned the gesture immediately, melting into Stoker's warmth and strength, her hands clutching at the back of his shirt as she buried her face in his chest. She wanted her father and her friends so badly right now it hurt like a physical wound; but they weren't there, they were hundreds of miles away.

"Thanks Stoker," Freda sniffed slightly, "I needed that."

"You deserved that," Stoker tugged his ponytail, "I came here coz I thought we had a better chance carrying on than returning to Mars. I was relieved to see you, but I still thought he'd die."

"Me too," Freda turned and reached for the usual coffee. She paused, smiling before flipping a cupboard open to get a more expensive blend out; she measured out the coffee into a large pot. She stood it to one side and set out enough mugs for everyone.

"You thought... then why? Why keep fighting?" Stoker breathed out slowly, unable to believe what Freda had done when she too had thought Rimfire was a goner.

"Because whilst I thought he'd die, I had hope that he would live," Freda shrugged, "faith, hope and love. And the greatest of these is love."

Stoker frowned slightly his ears flicking curiously, Freda's talk sounded religious. She'd never really talked to him about her faith, or shown any distinctive signs of being religious; but there were times Stoker swore that she must be religious in some way. Now was one such time.

"So special coffee this morning?" Stoker pointed at the box.

"Yup, just for you guys," Freda grinned, "oh – breakfast."

She padded into her larder and rummaged through the fridge. Stoker could hear her humming tunefully. Freda found she did have enough of everything she needed so she straightened and sighed. Breathing deeply she returned to the kitchen to find Stoker pouring coffee. She reached for a glass and poured out some cherry juice for herself; she stared off into the garden. Stoker disappeared back upstairs leaving her to study the patch of mud that would one day be a garden. A loud knock sounded at the front door. Freda frowned and went through to the hall leaving her drink on the kitchen surface; pausing she reached into the umbrella rack and grasped the hilt of one of her swords. She'd taken to keeping it there for use against Greasepit on his all too frequent visits. She took a deep breath and opened the front door; Greasepit stood dripping in the porch a smile hitched on his ugly face.

"Morning from Mr Limburger," he leered evilly, staring rudely at Freda's scantily clad figure.

"Morning to you to," Freda snapped, "so what's your stink faced boss want this time?"

"To tell you he knows 'bout the mices being here an' that you better give up or he gonna hurt you good," Greasepit ticked the points off on his chubby fingers.

"Tell him to go fry himself," Freda snorted, "that kinda threat just don't wash."

"Well he said he had someone precious to ya," Greasepit sneered.

"He's just saying that to make me give in!" Freda growled, she was acting a lot braver than she currently felt.

"He got someone called Kee? No, wait a minute Kay? Kay – yeah it were Kay," Greasepit sneered evilly.

"Get lost," Freda slammed the door in the goons face and carefully watched through a spy hole as Greasepit lumbered off limping slightly; presumably the wound she'd put in his leg still pained him.

"Who was that?" Stoker asked from halfway down the stairs.

"Greasepit," Freda grimaced, "plus half a tonne of grease!"

"Lovely, well anyways Rimfire wanted to see you," Stoker jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"Coming," Freda called cheerfully, before she quietly added, "and for someone other than Rimfire."

Rimfire seemed more alert when Freda entered the room; he had sat up with Stoker's help, although the General hadn't done a great job with the pillows. Freda glanced back down the corridor as she heard movement from the other rooms. She came to a snap decision.

"Stoker I need a word," Freda asked suddenly. Stoker nodded and walked to the doorway. Freda pulled him out and closed the door gently.

"They've taken Kai," she told Stoker in a mere whisper.

"What!?" Stoker was a good deal louder than a whisper.

"Shhhh! Limburger says he has Kai – Greasepit came to threaten me. If I don't do what they want then Limburger's gonna turn nasty. He's been threatening me since I moved in here as it is," Freda explained.

"Right, so why tell me in secret?" Stoker looked puzzled.

"I don't want Rimfire knowing, and I don't want the others jumping on the band wagon looking for a fight," Freda sighed.

"Well that's exactly what it's gonna take to get Kai back Freda," Stoker said, noting the rebellious look in her eyes he took her gently by the shoulders and shook her, "Freda, come on – be reasonable!"

"Humbug," Freda grouched emphatically as Throttle appeared from his room. He looked a thousand times better than the previous night.

"How's Rimfire?" he asked.

"Fine, he's awake now," Freda nodded to the room.

"Cool," Throttle grinned.

"Whoa, Throttle we have a situation," Stoker announced, noting Vinnie and Carbine's approach, "a friend of Freda's is – ah – enjoying Mr Limburger's hospitality."

"Dirty rotten! I'll pound him so hard he'll be fish paste!" Vinnie growled.

"SHHHHH!" Freda put a finger to her lips and pointed at the rooms where Rimfire's relatives still slept.

"Who are they?" Carbine enquired.

"His name's Kai, we've been best friends since we were seven years old. I don't know how much Limburger knows about him, but Kai looks a lot like me – in fact he and I look alike enough to pass for brother and sister," Freda explained quickly, "he could have actually taken Kai to be my brother. We do refer to ourselves as siblings sometimes – but that's based off a different relationship to being birth siblings or even best friends."

"Wow – so does he look exactly like you?" Vinnie piped excitedly.

"Vinnie!" Stoker, Throttle and Carbine growled in unison at the hot-headed fur ball.

"No we aren't 'exactly' alike, but the differences between us are very small," Freda sighed, "our hair is the exact same shade of brown, eyes same colour –except Kai's are marginally lighter, skin colouring the same, Kai's a little taller than me, body build roughly the same – Kai's slightly better muscled than me, go figure - he's a bloke. Oh and we sound very alike too."

"Yikes!" Carbine gulped, "That's amazing!"

"Tell me about it," Freda grumbled.

"Well – we haven't beaten Limburger up in days! Let's go!" Vinnie crowed excitedly.

"Absolutely not," Freda growled.

"Why not Freda girl?" Vinnie looked totally crestfallen.

"Just because Limburger says he has Kai, doesn't mean he does," Freda pointed out in exasperation.

"Okay, okay, we'll wait – but do me a favour and see if you can contact Kai?" Stoker held his hands up in a gesture of defeat, "Now didn't Rimfire want to see you?"

Freda disappeared into the room and closed the door. Stoker waited all of two seconds before scooting downstairs at top speed. The others followed more slowly. Carbine raised her eyebrows when they found Stoker rummaging through one of Freda's kitchen cupboards.

"Stoker – why are you looking in there? It's all human medicine," Throttle asked wearily as he noted which cupboard the Martian General was looking in.

"Uh huh – I know. I'm looking for something," Stoker suddenly gave an exclamation of triumph and waved a vial of liquid under Throttle's nose.

"What is that?" the tan mouse enquired dubiously.

"Something Freda gave me to help me sleep," Stoker grinned evilly, "I'm about to return the favour."

"Why?" Carbine asked coldly.

"Because Kai is at Limburger's, I'd stake my reputation as a Freedom Fighter on that – that fat faced fraud doesn't make empty threats. Besides why would he go to the trouble of researching Freda's background unless he intended to take a hostage?" Stoker carefully added a few drops of liquid from the vial to Freda's glass of juice. He swirled the liquid round carefully.

"I dunno, coz it sounds like a trap?" Carbine groused in annoyance.

"So we are going to beat Limburger up?" Vinnie confirmed in rising excitement.

"Yup – we're just not telling Freda that we're doing it," Stoker nodded, "hopefully this juice is strong enough to hide the taste of the drops."

"Do they taste strong then?" Carbine looked dubious.

"Nah, just bitter – like most of Freda's potions," Stoker sniffed and nodded, "well I can't detect its smell so I think we're good."

"Freda is going to be furious," Throttle pointed out.

"Well yes, but then she'll know Kai is safe," Stoker reasoned, "her rage will probably be short lived."

Stoker headed back upstairs carrying the glass and Rimfire's mug of coffee with him. The sound of low voices came from Rimfire's room. Stoker knocked and walked in. Freda was sat in one of the armchairs chatting to Rimfire quite happily. It almost made Stoker feel guilty about drugging her. He offered up the drinks and watched with bated breath as Freda took a swig.

"So what ya talked about?" Stoker sank onto the foot of the bed.

"Nothing much – mainly where this place is, and who I am," Freda chuckled, "can't blame Rimfire for being curious."

"It was weird coming to in a strange room," Rimfire agreed, "but Uncle Modo was here so I guessed it was okay."

"So how long before Rimfire's well enough to travel again?" Stoker enquired.

"Honestly Stoker? I don't know, but I doubt we're talking days," Freda shook her head.

"Well Carbine was talking about being down here for a week or two..." Rimfire trailed off.

"That could change in light of recent events," Stoker warned.

"Sorry, that'd be my fault wouldn't it?" Freda asked dryly.

"Uh huh, Carbine's pretty pissed about those two being here; but maybe she will stay the two weeks she was planning anyway," Stoker shrugged, "I dunno."

"Who else is here?" Rimfire looked mystified. Freda and Stoker exchanged looks; they'd forgotten Rimfire didn't know about his folks being on Earth.

"Ah well, I got Charley to message Mars asking if any of your family could get here," Freda explained slowly, "your sister and Grandmomma turned up yesterday – on a ship your sister had commandeered."

"Sounds like Primer," Rimfire chuckled, "she never did think things through!"

"Hmmmmm, well Carbine was pretty pissed off none the less," Freda yawned, "argh – come on I slept already!"

"You have been up a long time – maybe your body needs more?" Stoker suggested slyly.

"Maybe," Freda mumbled sleepily. Stoker caught her glass neatly as it fell from her relaxed grasp. Rimfire gasped; Freda was sound asleep in the chair.

"Don't worry kid, she has been up going on 48hours trying to sort out your fever," Stoker stood and stretched, "I'll put her in her own room – she'll be more comfortable."

"Yeah," Rimfire sighed, "she is ok? I mean I know Uncle Modo and the bro's take good care of Charley ma'am, but who takes care of Miss Freda?"

"We all do Rimfire, we all do," Stoker nodded and bent to lift Freda out of the chair. He whistled at how light the solid looking human actually was. He carefully carried her out of the room leaving Rimfire's door open. Modo stepped out onto the landing.

"Whoa! What happened?" the grey giant was at Stoker's side immediately.

"She's just asleep Modo," Stoker reassured as he strode in the direction of Freda's room. Modo followed curiously, he'd never gone up into the attic of the house; although he did know Freda slept up there. Stoker fumbled with a door handle on the top landing, Modo reached past the General and opened the door. A tousle-haired Charley appeared behind them and smiled at the sight of Freda nestled in Stoker's arms.

"Awwww," Charley grinned, "want some help?"

"She ain't even got dressed yet Charley – she just got up and made me n' Rimfire a drink," Stoker tried shrugging and nearly lost his hold on Freda. He manfully resisted Modo's attempts to take her and instead placed her down on the bed. He stood looking down at her; was this really the woman who'd managed to bully him into being sensible back in the UK. The woman who had fought to save Rimfire's life; she looked pale and worn as she lay on the bed. Charley flipped the quilt over her.

"Wow!" the mechanic exclaimed gazing down at the work of art, "Freda sure can sew!"

"The one in the room I was in was beautiful too," Modo murmured. Stoker nodded smiling.

"Her mother and paternal grandmother taught her to sew; and a lot of other crafty stuff too. She says she feels closest to them when she's using the skills they taught her," Stoker explained softly.

"Then her mother and grandmother are both dead?" Charley asked, "She only told us about her mother."

"Yeah, they both died of cancer," Stoker frowned, "she's close to her father though, and she loves her paternal grandfather dearly. Her Mom's side of the family she's not so keen on apart from one Uncle and his wife."

"Aunt Yui," Charley smiled, "she told us about her Mom's death and how she met her Aunt."

"Yeah, she has aunts and uncles on her Dad's side of the family too; and cousins, though I'm unsure how well she gets on with the majority of them. The only one she really talked to me about was Sammy," Stoker's face was sober as he remembered how upset Freda had been when he asked about the photo that had stood on her living room mantle in the U.K.

"Sammy? She never mentioned," Charley frowned.

"He was the same age as her, they practically grew up together I think. Then when they went away to university, she ended up in West Wales and Sammy went off to London. Sammy was in his second year at uni and loving every minute of it. Then some psycho murdered him, I don't think she ever got over it," Stoker hung his head.

"Murder?" Charley cocked her head.

"Yeah, he was stabbed over and over, when the ambulance got there the paramedics couldn't do anything for him," Stoker explained heavily.

"But why? Was it someone he was an enemy of?" Modo queried. Charley smiled faintly at Modo's slightly clumsy question; all the mice had known for so long was war, death and destruction. It must have been hard to remember or imagine people just killing for the sake of it.

"No, it was a complete stranger who turned out to be a real nut job," Stoker sighed, "from what I can make out the whole family was shattered by the news. It was the eighteenth of September a few years ago, I think that's when Freda first started thinking about moving away – maybe coming to America. I think she wants to forget, she thinks that somehow forgetting will take away the pain; but a part of her wants to hold on to Sammy so desperately."

Charley shuddered. So that's why Freda had winced when Rimfire had said his birthday was the eighteenth of September. Modo clenched his jaw as he thought of the friends and comrades he'd lost during the war. It was never easy, but war was an explanation at least. Stoker led the way out of the room and closed the door.

"Rimfire knows your Momma and Primer are here," Stoker spoke slowly, "Freda told him."

Modo nodded and headed down to Rimfire's room. Charley exchanged looks with Stoker.

"What's going on?" the mechanic asked.

"Limburger has a friend of Freda's," Stoker shrugged, "me, Vinnie and Carbine are gonna try and spring him."

"Er – what about Throttle?" Charley pointed out what she saw as a gaping hole in Stoker's plan.

"Well, it was Freda who said that me n' Carbine should team up with Vinnie. Besides Throttle doesn't look to be in any shape to make snap decisions," Stoker shook his head, "we'd all be better off if he stayed here."

"You know he's not going to like that," Charley shook her head.

"I'm not leaving him a choice," Stoker replied firmly. They walked downstairs together. Carbine, Throttle and Vinnie were devising battle plans at the kitchen table.

"How long will she stay out for Stoke?" Throttle asked.

"Out? Stoker!" Charley rounded on the General.

"Hey! It was the only way we were gonna be allowed to go out!" Stoker grumbled, "And in answer to your question Throttle I have no idea. So Carbine, Vinnie and I better get going."

"What? Hey Stoker! Come on! You're not leaving me here!" Throttle jumped up, knocking his chair over as he gestured emphatically.

"Yes I am, I need someone we can all rely on to hold the fort here – Modo and Rimfire aren't in any shape to be fighting, Primer is too headstrong and Charley won't manage on her own," Stoker glanced apologetically at Charley who rolled her eyes.

"Arrrgh!" Throttle growled loudly and sat down in a different chair. His hands curled into fists on the kitchen table. What Stoker was basically saying wasn't lost on Throttle; he was a liability and they couldn't afford the risk.

"Sorry Throttle, but I'm with Stoker on this one," Carbine said quietly, "we need someone reliable here. Me and Vinnie can manage the tower break in. Stoker just needs to back us up."

"Well let's get going," Stoker strode to the door, "I'm sorry Throttle."

The two Generals walked out without looking back, followed by an awkward looking Vinnie, who'd remained abnormally quiet. Charley put a comforting hand on Throttle's shoulder.

"They've left the best behind," Charley quipped. Throttle reached out and hugged Charley to him.

"No they haven't Charley girl, they've left a liability behind," Throttle wept openly unable to stop himself as the full realisation of exactly how useless he'd become washed over him. Charley felt completely helpless; she didn't know what to do or say that could possibly make up for Throttle being left behind by his own comrades. Freda had been right about how stressed the tan furred leader was, but Charley was fairly certain she'd have suggested a gentler way of putting the idea to Throttle than simply telling him he wasn't going.

* * *

Please review and/or leave constructive criticism :)


	14. Chapter 14 - Crafty Escape

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

* * *

Chapter 14 – Crafty Escape

Freda woke some time later to find Throttle sitting by her bedside.

"What in hell's teeth are you doing here?" Freda sat up wincing, she'd been in bed for far too long and her body was protesting painfully.

"Charley was worried," Throttle sounded so quiet and withdrawn it immediately attracted Freda's attention.

"Where's Stoker?" Freda hissed, throwing the quilt off herself. Throttle screwed his eyes shut as he realised Freda was going to get changed in front of him; he could feel himself colouring in embarrassment.

"Stoker, Carbine and Vinnie went out this morning, they're not back yet," Throttle murmured, his tail lashing restlessly. His ears twitched at the sound of rustling fabric.

"They've gone to Limburger's," it wasn't a question, it was a statement and Freda was furious.

"Yeah, Stoker put something in your juice this morning," Throttle nodded, "he is right about one thing though – Limburger doesn't make empty threats. He will have Kai prisoner."

"Humbug, humbug, humbug!" Freda growled emphatically. She strode out of the room; Throttle slowly opened his eyes and sighed. He felt terribly alone; he curled himself up tightly in the chair.

Freda clattered into the kitchen to find Momma and Charley having a quiet conversation. Charley looked up guiltily.

"Sorry – Stoker was determined to go," Charley apologised. Freda breathed deeply and smiled; time to prioritise.

"I know that man has a one track mind some days," Freda admitted wryly, " do you think they should be back by now?"

"Hard to tell, but I'd say this is normal considering they're breaking into the tower as oppose to blowing it up," Charley grimaced, "at least I hope this an ok length of time."

"I'm sure they're fine," Momma said reassuringly, "Stoker and Vinnie can take risky decisions, but Carbine is very level headed."

"Hmmmm," Freda hummed, "well more company means I better get on and finish some more rooms."

"How many rooms are there?" Charley asked in surprise.

"Er – a lot, you guys haven't even really seen half of this place yet. I built it with company in mind – mainly my re-enactment friends," Freda rolled her eyes; "I think I'll get Throttle to help; might help him a bit."

"Well Rimfire seems to be doing better now," Momma nodded happily, "so if there's anything Primer and I can do as well?"

"Probably, is Modo still here too?" Freda asked, "Just there's furniture that needs shifting again if he'd be up for it."

"I'm sure he would be," Momma replied thoughtfully, "it'll give Rimfire a break from fussing family."

"What about me?" Charley interjected.

"Charley you've had the garage closed for two days, and the two days before that weren't exactly nine to five – how's about finishing off your workload?" Freda suggested.

"Sounds kinda good actually," Charley laughed, "I've missed tinkering with engines! But I had actually kept like – two weeks free to give myself a break!"

Freda grinned and took her leave; she found Throttle still curled up in the chair in her room. She gently placed a hand on Throttle's shoulder, rousing him from whatever thoughts were consuming him. Throttle slowly uncurled and looked at her. She slowly removed his shades; Throttle screwed his eyes up at the light. Freda drew the curtains and knelt in front of him. Pulling a face when she realised he still couldn't see her clearly; she gently replaced his shades, smiling as he focussed on her.

"I could use some help," Freda spoke very softly.

"What with?" Throttle asked despondently, he wasn't really interested in helping.

"Your choice, there are rooms to be finished off, I need to buy the makings of more furniture and I also need to go see my land agent about purchasing some more of the land that's currently just wasteland," Freda sat back on her heels and waited for Throttle's decision.

"Oh," Throttle mulled it over slowly, "well if we went to see the – er – land agent then stopped off to go furniture shopping?"

Freda nodded at the suggestion. It's what she would have done anyway, but she wanted Throttle to feel that this had been solely his decision.

"So are we taking your 4x4 then?" Throttle stood up, he still sounded down but Freda detected a note of interest in his voice.

"Nah, we'll take your bike," Freda grinned, "it's been ages since I rode pillion."

"You sure? What about dragging stuff home?" Throttle asked sceptically.

"I can get it delivered – it'll be a mite big for my 4x4 anyway," Freda explained.

Over an hour had passed since they left Charley at the Last Chance, Throttle had happily driven over to the land agent's office and listened intently as Freda ruthlessly bargained with the land agent and relevant parties over the land purchase. The land agent seemed worried by the purchase, but seemed to relax when Freda set out her whole plan. It would ensure Limburger couldn't get hold of the land on a very permanent basis.

They were back on the road and heading to a place Freda had found sold the types of wood she wanted. Throttle had found it strange having Freda nestled against his back to begin with, but he'd now relaxed and was beginning to enjoy the sensation.

"Turn left here," Freda's voice crackled over the helmet's communicator.

"Okay," Throttle confirmed, steering his bike up the narrow street and parking by the timber yard entrance. Freda hopped off, removed her helmet and began wandering amongst the timber stacks; a look of great reverence on her face as she examined different woods. Throttle removed his helmet cautiously and joined her, still carrying his helmet.

"What are you after exactly?" Throttle asked looking down at the pile of oak Freda was examining.

"Stuff for furniture, all the stuff I have at the house was made by me or friends of mine," Freda explained.

"Wow," Throttle was astounded at the reply, "so was it you who made the quilts too?"

"Uh-huh, yup, I made them," Freda smiled happily, "you like?"

"Yeah, a lot actually," Throttle shuffled his feet, "we don't really have stuff like that on Mars currently."

"I see, well I could use a trip to the fabric store as well," Freda replied, a devious smile crossing her face.

"Right, okay," Throttle sounded puzzled, but seemed ok with the idea of the added shopping destination.

"Hello!" a friendly shout came from a dilapidated shed. A middle aged man in denim overalls strode down to meet them.

"Hello Chippy!" Freda greeted him cheerfully. Throttle ducked out of sight behind a pile of timber, cursing silently. Freda simply reached down and tugged Throttle's tail gently to encourage him to come back out.

"Well – so you bought a friend with you this time," Chippy stuck a hand out to Throttle, "so you're one of them bikers that are making a name for themselves against that wretch Limburger?"

"Yes," Throttle replied slightly stiffly.

"Oak again?" Chippy asked Freda, politely overlooking Throttle's discomfort. Throttle pricked his ears forward in interest. He didn't know much about earth woods, but these two evidently did.

"Well I'll definitely take more of this white oak – did you have any luck with that black oak I asked about? Oh and a friend's staying with me and will need some walnut, ash and teak," Freda looked thoughtful.

"Black oak arrives next week, as fer the other stuff – yer in luck, I have some in stock," Chippy grinned, "and I have that oak, ash, yew and pine you wanted in the warehouse though – could drop it round this afternoon."

"Chippy – I love you!" Freda hugged the timber yard owner excitedly. Throttle raised his eyebrows at Freda's enthusiasm; he had no clue what half of the wood was for, but Freda evidently had plans in mind. She concluded her business with the aptly nicknamed Chippy and followed him back down to his bike. Throttle revved the engine slowly and spoke through the helmets communicator.

"Where now?"

"Fabric store – I have some ideas for more sewing projects," Freda sighed contentedly, "I have a house to finish and I already decided I wanted to leave most of the stuff I already have in the Gloucester house rather than stripping and shipping it all over here!"

"So you have two houses now?" Throttle asked curiously.

"Yup, the one you've seen and a big old farmhouse near Gloucester," Freda explained, "plus I have access to other properties owned by my families."

"Wow. So what have you got in mind sewing wise?" Throttle asked clearing his throat.

"Wait and see," Freda was grinning; Throttle could tell from the lilt of her voice. He guided his bike back out onto the road and followed Freda's easy instructions. He parked up and looked around sceptically. Freda slid of the back of the bike and took off her helmet; nudging Throttle she pressed a wad of notes into his hand and pointed at a diner down the street.

"Why don't you get something to eat? It's usually pretty quiet in there," Freda suggested, "or you can come with – I don't mind."

"Ah, I'll wait here," Throttle looking at the money before handing it back.

"Okay," Freda looked worried, "well I'll be quick as I can."

She disappeared into the shop and Throttle leant forward on his bike gazing down the street. An empty paper bag blew past, in the distance he could hear the sound of children playing and people going about their daily business. The sound of engines drew his attention; he twisted his head and saw Stoker, Carbine and Vinnie approaching, Throttle groaned.

"Hey Throttle!" Stoker greeted him cheerfully enough, "Came looking for you – where's Freda?"

"Shopping," Throttle jerked his head toward the craft shop, "what are you guys doing out here – this place is miles from Limburger's."

"Charley was worried you guys had been gone so long," Carbine explained taking her helmet off with a sigh.

"Whoa – where are you going?" Stoker asked in shock. Carbine shook her hair out and confidently walked over to the shop's entrance.

"Inside to find Freda," Carbine answered simply as she pushed the shop door open. Throttle wrinkled his nose; Carbine seemed so relaxed about being seen. He pulled his own helmet off and sat looking at the door; curiosity won out and he slowly swung off his bike. Stoker and Vinnie had followed suit, they cautiously approached the door. Bracing themselves for screams they stepped inside the shop. No shopkeeper in sight. The three male Martians exchanged glances; Throttle's ears twitched, he could hear the women laughing in another room. He slowly picked a way through the Aladdin's cave of craft materials; Vinnie and Stoker followed nervously. They eventually found themselves in a room filled with bolts of fabric, a large cutting table stood to one side and three women were standing by it flicking through a catalogue. Nothing too odd about that, except one of the women was Carbine and they were evidently discussing sewing patterns.

"That's nice," Carbine reached over and tapped the catalogue. Freda looked at the women's shirt pattern and laughed.

"I have that pattern at home – now Carbine will you stop going off on tangents!" Freda chuckled and flicked through the catalogue, "I was looking for a dress pattern I saw in a sewing magazine the other day. There!"

Throttle twitched his ears this way and that before clearing his throat quietly. All three women whipped round, Freda and Carbine grinned, and the shopkeeper relaxed as soon as she realised she wasn't neglecting other customers.

"Why don't you boys take a look see?" Freda suggested. They came over uncertainly and squinted at the dress.

"Well, it's very nice," Stoker mumbled, looking at the classic figure hugging bodice with its full skirt.

"Wow," Vinnie's eyes popped.

"It'd look good on you Freda girl," Throttle said hesitantly.

"Hey! What about me?" Carbine wriggled suggestively; Throttle raised his eyes heavenward.

"Yeah I guess – you'd have every Freedom Fighter drooling though."

Carbine smirked.

"Could you order it in Di?" Freda asked; the shopkeeper nodded and smiled.

"Of course; now fabric – you were after cottons?"

"Yeah, new project – more fabric," Freda shrugged, "not that I don't already have a remnants stash that is taking over my work room!"

Freda and Di discussed the merits of various fabrics, experimented with colours and finally agreed a beautiful selection of materials for Freda's new project. Whatever it was, it was going to require a massive amount of fabric Throttle decided watching Di measure yard after yard of material out.

"So I take it Kai is at my place?" Freda enquired looking around to check she hadn't missed anything in the fabric department.

"Well, no, not exactly," Stoker sighed, he'd been dreading this exact moment.

"We searched the entire place, no sign anywhere," Carbine shuffled her feet, "I'm sorry Freda."

"Well we still destroyed the tower," Vinnie added hopefully.

"Hmmmm," Freda cocked an eyebrow sceptically at the youngest biker mouse. She paid Di and bundled her purchases up carefully into two packages before carrying them outside and lashing them to Carbine and Stoker's bikes.

As they headed for home a call came through from the garage's communicator.

"Charley girl?" Throttle answered worriedly, "Something happen?"

"You could say..." Charley sounded amused, the mice exchanged looks, "There's a guy here who looks like he's Freda's twin – says his name's Kai."

"What!" Stoker, Carbine and Vinnie yelled.

"News to our would be rescuers I think," Freda laughed.

* * *

Please review and/or leave constructive criticism :D


	15. Chapter 15 - A Tudor Feast

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

* * *

Chapter 15 – A Tudor Feast

As soon as the bikes hit the drive Freda vaulted off Throttle's bike, pulled her helmet off and was immediately swept up into the arms of a dark haired human man who'd appeared from the house. Charley stood by the open front door, a bemused expression on her face. Throttle and the others hurriedly dismounted and disappeared.

"Who're the shy guys?" Kai asked, looking at the rapidly disappearing forms.

"You remember Stoker?" Freda smiled.

"Yeah, cool dude who crashed his spaceship in one of our kit sheds?" Kai nodded, "Yeah, uh huh, I remember him."

"So this is Kai?" Charley queried.

"Yeah – heh – sub hoc..." Freda started her family motto in Latin.

"Signo vinces," Kai smiled and hugged Freda close, "awww so glad I found you."

"Definitely Kai! Come on," Freda pushed her friend back toward the door. Charley shut the front door and locked it. Freda smiled and led the way through to the kitchen.

"Ack – um Freda?" Throttle stuttered.

"Hiya!" Kai grinned, "Don't worry I know all about you guys – so I won't faint or anything!"

"Right," Vinnie rolled his eyes at the lame joke.

"Hey Kai," Stoker looked distinctly sheepish.

"Hey shed-wrecker!" Kai teased, "Still crash landing stuff?"

"Nah, Carbine did the landing on this trip," Stoker indicated the female Martian.

"Cool," Kai grinned at Carbine, "women are better pilots huh?"

"In some cases, yeah," Carbine agreed dryly.

"Okay – where's Modo and co.?" Freda asked, "And do they know Kai's here."

"Upstairs with Rimfire, and yeah they know," Charley nodded.

"Okay – well you guys relax, someone get my fabric in please?!" Freda glanced at Kai, "I'll take Kai to meet Modo and sort him out with a room ok?"

"Sure thing," Throttle shrugged and headed for the door. Carbine caught his arm.

"Come on we've humiliated you enough for one day haven't we?" the Martian General looked downcast.

"You and Stoker – yeah, you humiliated me and you still are, Freda hasn't humiliated me at all," Throttle snapped, "she's involved me in everything and I actually enjoyed it."

Throttle stomped out.

"Whoa – he is pissed," Vinnie groaned.

"We couldn't have taken him with us rookie," Stoker reasoned for the umpteenth time that day.

"But it was Freda's idea," Carbine frowned.

"And it was us who agreed to it," Stoker reminded her.

Freda and Kai headed upstairs slowly; when they reached Rimfire's room Freda knocked politely. Modo opened the door a crack.

"It's ok Modo, Kai knows about you guys," Freda explained quietly. Modo swung the door open and beamed at Kai.

"So yer the one they went off to rescue n' couldn't find huh?" Modo asked.

"Yeah well – Limburger underestimated how good I was at getting out of places," Kai winked, "a two year old kid could've picked the lock."

"So this is Kai?" Momma asked, before hugging the human male. She was surprised when Kai hugged her straight back; evidently he was used to physical expressions of affection. Primer and Rimfire grinned at the newcomer from the bed. They found seats for everyone and Kai settled to explaining the reason for his presence.

"Did you know Arnette is heading here?" Kai asked Freda suddenly.

"Yes actually I do," Freda replied, "he asked if he could come stay, I said yes of course and he asked me not to tell anyone where he was."

"It wasn't actually that hard to guess where he was headed," Kai replied grumpily "he always runs straight to you."

"Who's Arnette?" Modo asked.

"Another friend, he's young, and he's a bit special – so he gets picked on a lot," Freda frowned, "I think our re-enactment group back home are the only people he's ever met who don't want to study him or pick on him. I'm a kind of big sister figure I think – I spend a lot of time helping him out face bullies."

"Why does he get picked on?" Primer queried frowning.

"Arnette is special like I say – he suffers from a certain condition," Freda sighed, "it's up to him to tell you details if he wants to, but it is fairly evident as soon as you see him."

"Oh," Primer sighed and tweaked her brother's ear.

"Ow! Hey!" Rimfire protested, "Like you force feeding me that foul drink isn't bad enough!"

"I take it you've been giving him quinine?" Freda looked expectantly at Primer.

"Yup," Primer nodded.

"How's about I make up for it by cooking us a hearty meal?" Freda laughed, "It's not too late to start something extra special."

"Hmmmm, Chief's cooking," Kai licked his lips.

"Chief?" the mice chorused in confusion.

"Yeah – that's what we call her in our re-enactment group," Kai grinned, "she's the one in charge of our mob after all."

"Could I help with dinner?" Momma asked desperate to change the subject to something more intelligible.

"Of course, if we can enlist Kai's help we could do leeks n' sops – oi! Kai!" Freda attracted her friend's attention and looked questioningly at him.

"Leeks n' sops? I'm all ears," Kai chuckled.

"Sounds disgusting," Primer grimaced.

"Tastes delicious!" Kai added, smiling winningly at Primer. Freda led Momma downstairs leaving the others to talk amongst themselves.

"I've got a real treat planned for tonight – I'm thinking a Tudor feast," Freda winked at Momma.

"Sounds interesting," Momma agreed sceptically.

"Well I've got everything we'll need in the kitchen," Freda looked thoughtful, "besides Tudor is probably better than medieval!"

Momma laughed at that; wondering what either of those two words meant. Luckily Charley and the others had cleared out of the kitchen and were camped in front of the TV arguing over what to watch. Throttle detached himself from the others and followed Freda and Momma into the kitchen.

"Okay, right," Freda thought carefully over the dishes to be prepared and set Throttle to work on root vegetables, whilst Momma began preparing the leeks carefully. Freda dug out the meat she required from the freezer and got it straight in to begin roasting. Luckily the only meat that needed a great deal of preparation was chicken and she had some chicken breasts at the back of the fridge.

Soon the house smelt pleasantly of the coming feast. Modo had carefully carried Rimfire down to join the main social group who had congregated at one end of the kitchen. Rimfire had discovered the already well read magazines and was flicking through them with Primer. Freda carefully lifted a roasting dish out of the oven to check on the meat; Charley gasped.

"Freda that's not?" she pointed at the joint, "You're not doing venison?"

"And why not?" Freda asked.

"I've never tasted it! It's really expensive!" Charley exclaimed.

"Depends where and when you buy it," Freda shrugged, "and who you know of course."

"Wow!" Charley grinned happily, "So what else are we getting?"

"A three course banquet," Freda grinned, "hope you guys are ready to get drunk!"

"What?! How do you get drunk from eating?" Vinnie looked half horrified and half excited at the prospect.

"When there's alcohol in the food," Kai explained with a conspiratorial wink, "and if you're going to blame someone – it's the medieval monks you want."

"Say what now?" Stoker asked in confusion.

"It's a medieval thing – there were certain times of the year you weren't meant to drink alcohol on religious grounds, but folks quickly tagged that you could eat alcohol as well as drink it," Freda laughed, "basically they began cooking stuff in alcohol!"

"Doesn't that pickle it?" Vinnie enquired curiously.

"No – pickling is where you preserve food in vinegar – which is made from certain alcoholic beverages," Freda explained. The kitchen lapsed into silence; Charley grinned as Freda started humming, she really couldn't stand silence. All of them apart from Kai had heard Freda humming and singing on and off over the past two days. Rimfire in particular twitched his ears at the tune.

"Why do I recognise that?" the young freedom fighter asked in confusion.

"Because I sang it whilst you were ill," Freda chuckled.

"But Rimfire wouldn't know it from that alone," Modo pointed out.

"He doesn't know it – he said he recognised the tune Modo," Freda smiled, "just because someone's not fully conscious doesn't mean their ears don't work!"

"What is it?" Rimfire flicked his ears curiously.

"Brennan on the Moor, it's an Irish folk song about the early 19th century outlaw Willy Brennan," Freda shrugged, "I just like the tune."

"Sing it? Please?" Stoker coaxed. Freda laughed and broke into the opening verse; Kai joined her on the chorus. Soon the others were clapping along and smiling at hearing live music; for the younger mice it was their first time actually listening to skilled singers performing in front of them.

The meal Freda had come up with proved to be delicious; despite some early reservations about some of the dishes the mice discovered it was actually all very tasty. Charley found out she actually liked the rich flavour of venison, whilst the Martian males greedily had second and third helpings of everything barring the venison. Once the kitchen had been cleared from the meal they retired into the inglenook fireplace and Freda and Kai were prevailed upon to sing some more. Most of the music was Scottish and Irish, but Charley smiled as she noted their additions of American folk songs to what seemed to be a pre-arranged programme. They were all surprised to discover that Freda and Kai were both accomplished musicians, playing cheerful jigs and reels in between singing. Soon Rimfire was dozing off and Freda suggested everyone head to bed. Stoker and Carbine hung back until everyone else had disappeared, besides them and Freda.

"Freda we discovered some of Limburger's plans whilst we were at the tower," Stoker approached Freda cautiously.

"Ho hum – what's he up to?" Freda asked.

"He's got a lawyer working for him now, willingly or not I don't know," Stoker sighed, "but he plans to take this land from you and Charley – something called compulsory acquisition?"

"Ohhh that'd be the same as a compulsory purchase order back in the U.K.," Freda nodded, "hope he's thought this through."

"Why?" Carbine queried.

"Because land can only be purchased like that for very, very specific reasons – none of which would really work in Limburger's favour," Freda grinned, "I think Charley, Throttle and I might be paying the Mayor a visit tomorrow morning. And perhaps you two could take Vinnie and investigate what that no good Lousewart is up to?"

Stoker and Carbine exchanged looks.

* * *

Again working on theories here - it's mentioned in the series that the Freedom Fighters listen to bootlegged radio - so figured the mice probably wouldn't have heard live music for some time, if they've ever heard it at all.

To those wondering what leeks n' sops are - it's a medieval/early modern dish comprising of leeks [only the white part] cooked gently in white wine and served with or on toasted bread. And yup its seriously alcoholic like quite a few historic dishes!

And Arnette will be explained further ;) but for now he shall remain a mystery...

Same as always :) Please review and/or leave constructive criticism :)


	16. Chapter 16 - UK Calling

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

okay next installment :D sorry for the delay but I have been away in South West Wales with no internet signal - my excuse and I'm sticking to it! :) story slows for the next few chapters - but there is a point leading to a twist :)

* * *

Chapter 16 –UK Calling

Freda was up early the next morning still mulling over Stoker's words of the previous evening; she wondered if he'd told Charley yet. The house stood quiet as Freda hauled the fabric she'd purchased yesterday up to her workroom. She hummed thoughtfully as she began cutting out what she'd need to complete the projects it had been bought for. Throttle walked in yawning; Freda's humming really was a sure way of locating wherever she was in the house. He sleepily looked round the bright, cheery room Freda had set up next to her bedroom. Freda waved at a chair, indicating Throttle should sit. Before either of them could strike up a conversation her cell phone started ringing; she pounced on the device and hurriedly answered it.

"Hello? Hugh! What? ...The Legacy ... heck! Yeah I guess you need me back huh? ...Me? Fine. Got a situation brewing as usual ... no, no this is one situation where you guys won't help."

Throttle pricked his ears at the half-conversation he was hearing; he pulled a face wondering if Freda would take his advice.

"Freda?" Throttle called softly, she looked at him, "We're could use help and lots of it."

"Oh – ok," Freda nodded, "Hugh? Yeah – whistle the guys in. Look I gotta go, you take care and try and stay outta trouble?! I'll call you in a bit when I've booked the flight."

Freda put the phone down with a sigh.

"I gotta go back to the UK for a while," she seemed sad, "shouldn't be long, but there's something I'm needed for."

"Family?" Throttle asked quietly.

"No, an old friend," Freda grinned, "hey! I just had an epic idea!"

"Oh?" Throttle looked puzzled.

"Well Stoker, Carbine and Vinnie seem happy keeping tabs on Limburger; Primer and Momma are content to fuss over Rimfire; and Modo will doubtless prove more than capable of defending this place," Freda paused studying the tan mouse intently, "so maybe you and Charley might like to come with me? Maybe rustle up some sort of a legal defence against the Lousewart nuisance?"

"Come with... you mean go to England?" Throttle looked shocked, "I dunno."

"Well if you came it'd be a guarantee on my safe return," Freda grinned wickedly, "you know - with Limburger and all."

"Yeah I guess it would," Throttle murmured, "you, er, trust me enough to act as bodyguard?"

"Of course," Freda nodded.

"Well that's more than can be said for Stoker and Carbine right now," Throttle growled, "I guess I'll come."

"It'll only be a few days, but I'll try and fit some down time in," Freda smiled and beckoned to Throttle to follow her downstairs. Everyone seemed to still be asleep; apart from Charley.

"Morning Charley," Freda was surprised to see the mechanic up so early.

"Morning, Stoker told you what Limburger is planning?" Charley asked, looking sidelong at her friends.

"Uh-huh, couldn't sleep eh? Well I'm fighting him all the way, coz whatever he's up to it's gonna be bent," Freda's eyes blazed with an intense fire.

"Man, you really are a fighter huh?" Charley grinned tiredly, "Ok sister, I'm with ya."

"Well first I gotta go back to the UK, Throttle's coming with me – would you like to tag along?" Freda looked at Charley hoping the answer would be yes.

"Sounds like just what I need," Charley nodded her consent.

"Good, well you better get packed now – I aim to take the first flight out of here before Stoker comes up with any bright ideas to stop me!" Freda grimaced, "I'll go look up flight times now."

"Can I leave my bike at yours Charley girl?" Throttle asked watching Freda disappear.

"Yeah, of course," Charley nodded, "bring it on over now – I need to pack quickly I guess. Is there anything you need?"

"Nah, don't think so – it's not like I can take my bike," Throttle sighed. Charley disappeared out of the door heading for the garage; Throttle leaned back against one of the kitchen counters chewing his lip thoughtfully. He headed off after Freda, this time her talking acted as a homing beacon. Freda was settled behind a desk in a small room on the first floor that appeared to be her office. She was on the phone again; Throttle found a seat amongst the stacks of books and papers and waited.

"Yeah four tickets ... and could I book dogs and cats onto that flight? ...Yup they're vaccinated, chipped and have the relevant documents including passports... Brilliant... Yeah... I'll pick up the tickets at the desk and pay there. Cheers."

Freda put down the phone and sighed.

"6.30 – flight's leaving at 10, so we'll need to get there as soon as, for check in and boarding, but they seemed to think we had enough time. I don't think even Stoker could come up with something off the cuff this quickly," Freda sighed, "I'd better pack."

"Stoker probably won't even be awake – none of them will. Except Modo possibly," Throttle let a grin spread slowly over his face, "we could just leave a note. Who's the fourth ticket for anyway?"

"Throttle," Freda murmured in scolding tones before answering, "it's for Kai – he'll want to come, trust me!"

"Oh – is he awake yet?" Throttle queried.

"Hmmm, should be – I'll check now and then I'll go and pack my gear; and get the kids ready. Taxis will be arriving shortly, you need anything?" Freda looked over her shoulder as she reached the door, "And we'll see who's up before we leave eh?"

Under half an hour later and they were ready to leave; Throttle and Kai helped Freda to load the animal crates into the taxis whilst Charley loaded their luggage. Throttle had borrowed a loose pair of combats from Kai to hide his tail whilst his ears were hidden under one of Kai's hats. He felt extremely uncomfortable; no one else was awake, so Freda had left a note explaining their absence. Throttle was beginning to feel exceedingly guilty about the whole situation.

"Mornin'," Modo drawled from the doorway. He must have just got up Throttle thought, looking at his grey furred bro who hadn't even donned his chest armour yet.

"Morning Modo – we're taking a trip to the UK. There's a note in the kitchen explaining everything, I'm taking the kids with us so you won't have to worry," Freda shot off quickly, hoping Modo wasn't about to delay them.

"Oh, Stoker n' Carbine are gonna be steamed," Modo grimaced at the thought.

"Well I daresay they'll live," Freda raised her eyebrows.

"We're not gonna be gone long Modo," Charley soothed gently.

"Aren't we? I got woken with the news we were packing to leave and that's it!" Kai chuckled good-naturedly.

"Throttle?" Modo looked at his leader worry etched on his face.

"I'm going too," Throttle cleared his throat, "I need to get away bro – Stoker and Carbine aren't helping. They don't seem to trust me – Freda does."

"I understand," Modo nodded slowly, "they gone too far really."

"Yeah, anyway we gotta go," Throttle looked at the taxis, "I'm sorry bro, but I know you'll take care of this place for Freda girl."

"Yeah, we all will," Modo nodded again, "it's good of Freda ma'am to let us stay."

"You lot move out in my absence and I'll tan your hides!" Freda yelled from where she stood by the taxi, "Throttle we've really got to go – I'm sorry."

"See ya bro – have a good time," Modo smiled.

"Good luck here," Throttle smiled back. He turned and walked over to the taxi; shooting one last look at his bro before joining Charley and Kai in the back seat. Freda frowned slightly; there was something at the back of her mind, something not right, but she couldn't for the life of her think what. Modo waved until the taxis disappeared from sight before heading in for a calming cup of coffee.

They'd arrived at the airport and checked in without incident. Charley was surprised that Freda had managed to arrange a passport for Throttle at such short notice, and outside of business hours. Freda, however, was not forthcoming with information as to exactly how she'd managed it. Freda, Kai and Charley had all been on a plane before; although Charley sheepishly admitted she'd never been out of the country. Throttle was a first time flyer and was mildly amused at the three humans in depth discussion as to where he should sit!

"Guys – I may never have been on an airplane before, but I have travelled on spaceships," Throttle reminded them, a note of laughter in his voice. They'd gone quiet after that until they'd boarded, Freda had booked first class seats and they had the first class cabin to themselves.

"Do you reckon the guys are up yet?" Charley asked curiously as she stretched luxuriously in her seat.

"Probably," Throttle grimaced, "arrgh – Carbine is gonna be so mad!"

"How's about we give over worrying about Carbine and Stoker until the return trip?" Freda suggested, "We'll be landing at Birmingham International in roughly two hours."

"Is Hugh picking us up?" Kai asked with a grin.

"Yup, us and a certain person who spotted us at the airport and has got on this flight," Freda chuckled.

"Arnette? Arnette was at the airport?" Kai whistled, "Why didn't he come over?"

"I can think of two reasons," Freda looked pointedly at Charley and Throttle, "Arnette is very shy around strangers."

"Then why travel alone? Surely he'd prefer to be with people he knows?" Charley queried mystified as to this inexplicable behaviour.

"Ha! In a crowd Arnette becomes invisible – it's a skill he's perfected over the years," Freda shook her head, "in here his invisible trick wouldn't work, there's too few of us for him to 'blend in' with."

"Oh," Charley still looked puzzled.

"So where is Birmingham in relation to Gloucester?" Throttle asked, he'd removed his hat and got as comfortable as he could.

"Nor'Nor'East," Freda answered giving the naval heading, "be about an hour's journey on the motorway."

"Oh," Throttle nodded, "do you have neighbours?"

"Nope, not in either of the places we're going to," Freda replied calmly.

"Either of the places? Where else are we going?" Charley gasped.

"Gloucestershire and Wales," Freda laughed, "unfortunately the reason I needed to head back so suddenly is located in Wales."

Kai had already taken out a book in order to hide his smile. Freda and Charley continued to chat quietly, whilst Throttle slipped into an uneasy slumber punctuated with guilt ridden dreams.

* * *

I'll leave it to people's imaginations how and where Freda produced the passport from ;)

Feel free to review and leave constructive criticism :)


	17. Chapter 17 - Mom

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

This one's short [ish] and sweet - but kind of integral to Freda's character :)

* * *

Chapter 17 – Mom

As the plane came into land Throttle sighed in resignation as he pulled the hat back over his ears and attempted to look normal for passport checks and customs. Freda and Kai's friend Hugh met them at the airport along with two other friends; Freda had immediately left the group in order to search out Arnette. The others were left to make their own introductions and to collect the animals and luggage. Hugh introduced the new comers as Ginny and Josh; Charley immediately tagged Ginny as being Scottish, Josh was more difficult to place, but had apparently grown up in the same area as Freda, Kai and Hugh. Hugh was as tall as Kai, with dark brown hair the same shade as Freda and Kai's; if Charley hadn't known different she'd have definitely said the three were at least cousins. However Hugh's eyes were a brilliant blue as oppose to the dark brown orbs that Freda and Kai possessed. Ginny had copper brown hair, green eyes and a cheeky smile; she stood at only 5' 4" looking tiny next to 6' plus men. Josh, who turned out to be Ginny's cousin, had mid-brown hair and grey-blue eyes; he had a studious look about him, Charley was unsurprised to find out he was an academic, specialising in Medieval languages and graphology.

They'd apparently bought three vehicles, two for the animals and one for people. Hugh showed Charley and Throttle out to the mini bus he'd driven up from Gloucester, politely carrying Charley's bags. Freda and Kai rejoined them shortly, dragging a reluctant looking kid with them. His hair was tucked up under a hat and his eyes were obscured by sunglasses; he slipped into one of the back seats with a sulky look. Freda jumped into the driver's seat, shouting for Throttle and Charley to snag the two front seats which they did with bewildered expressions.

"Um – we'd be ok in the back," Charley pointed out as she reluctantly strapped herself into the front seat.

"You ever travelled in the back of one of these things before?" Freda asked as she started the minibus's engine.

"Nope," Charley shook her head.

"Huh – well it takes some getting used to trust me. Besides a motorway journey for your first time in a mini bus isn't the best idea, but hey ho. You lot strapped in yet?" she enquired of her other passengers. Calls of confirmation drifted forward. Freda coaxed the gearbox to manoeuvre the gears and they were off. Throttle wondered at the green countryside that faced them after they left Birmingham. Even before the war on Mars he'd never seen so much greenery; it stretched for mile after mile. He smiled lazily as he spotted signs for Gloucester.

"Okay – time to hit the rocky roads!" Freda shouted cheerfully. Groans emanated from the back.

"Rocky roads?" Throttle enquired.

"Yeah – the roads home ain't the smoothest," Freda warned. They exited the motorway and skirted the edge of the city; Freda pointing out places of interest such as the cathedral, the docks and the site of the former castle. Heading out of the city and into the open, rolling countryside Charley wondered why Freda had given all of it up to move to, of all places, the middle of Chicago. Freda hummed happily as she drove the familiar roads to her house, finally turning onto the long uphill drive that led to the old building she called home.

"Okay! All ashore who're coming ashore!" she called cheerfully as the mini bus ground to a halt. Two transit vans driven by Ginny and Josh pulled up next to them. Kai battled the door handle on the mini bus's rear door; Hugh leaned over and thumped it, causing the door to shoot open with a shriek of protest. Throttle and Charley climbed thankfully down from the front seats and looked at the sprawling house in front of them. Freda was checking on the animals and gently releasing them from their travel crates. The dogs went haring in, but the cats were a little more miffed over the sudden change of location, choosing to disappear around the side of the house.

"Bet you anything you like we'll find them in the stables," Kai laughed watching multiple kitty tails disappear.

"Stables? You have horses?" Charley asked in surprise.

"Yeah we have horses," Kai smiled, "do you ride?"

"Un-uh – no," Charley shook her head.

"There is pretty much a small farm out back," Ginny smiled, "just as a heads up."

"Right," Charley sighed happily. Throttle stood looking shifty as the others began to head in.

"Come on Throttle! You must be itching to get into something more comfortable!" Freda called from the doorway. The Martian moved automatically, ducking his head to avoid the low door frame. The house was evidently very old indeed; there were low ceilings everywhere and plenty of head knocking hazards even for the shorter members of the group. Steps led up and down into various rooms and passages and the small staircase Throttle spotted looked incredibly uneven. Having changed back into his own clothing in an unoccupied back room he soon found the others in a bright sunny kitchen. Freda already had the kettle on and the others were talking happily about local points of interest. He sloped over to Freda.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked softly.

"Heh – you can help if you like," Freda smiled, "so I guess you haven't seen much in the way of domestic earth animals yet?"

"Nah, not really," Throttle grinned, "I think that might be changing though."

Freda laughed and made hot drinks all round for the others, sticking to a cold pint of water for her; she led Throttle out the back door into a small herb garden. It was March, so most of the garden looked tatty, but the herbs still gave off a beautiful scent that was very relaxing; judging by the garden furniture Throttle guessed this was the main outdoor social space for the house. The Martian followed Freda into a large yard with buildings on two sides, the third was taken up by the house and gardens and the fourth side opened onto a track way and fields.

"Come and meet some of my animals," Freda grinned, Throttle rolled his eyes, but trailed after her anyway. She introduced him to some of the rare breeds she kept, Gloucester and White Park Cattle; Jacob, Herdwick and Portland sheep; Gloucester Old Spot, Saddle Back and Tamworth Pigs. Throttle's head spun at the sheer number of breeds Freda kept and bred on her farm in the UK. She'd saved her favourites until last; dragging Throttle away from the geese he'd been warily watching she led him toward the stables. Throttle's ears twitched nervously as he heard the unmistakable sounds of several large animals.

"Throttle, this is Captain – and the one next to him is Lieutenant, we call him Tenan for short," Freda gently stroked the nose of the massive horse she stood by. Throttle precipitately backed up.

"They're huge!" he gulped.

"Yeah, they're shire horses, I keep other breeds of heavy horse here too, but these two are my favourites," Freda planted a kiss on Captain's nose. Throttle gingerly made his way forward and was surprised by how gentle Captain actually was.

"Wow," Throttle breathed, carefully stroking the massive nose that was investigating his front.

"Would you come riding with me?" Freda asked suddenly, "Kai and Hugh already persuaded Charley to come for a ride after lunch."

"Yeah, I guess I can try – I might not be that good though," Throttle mumbled, hoping that Freda wouldn't pick Captain for him to ride.

Lunch was a simple affair of bread, cheese and ham that seemed heavenly after the flight. Throttle gulped as the dreaded moment drew closer; he's agreed to Freda's suggestion of riding, but in point of fact he was terrified. Freda had disappeared out to saddle her own horse and two others for Charley and him. Throttle groaned and strode out with the others to find several smaller horses standing patiently waiting in the yard. Freda appeared from the building opposite the house with a spirited looking silver-grey horse.

"Don't worry," Freda reassured Throttle as she noted his worried expression, "this is Spirit – she's my horse. Here I'll introduce you to Lightening – he'll be yours for this afternoon."

Throttle gulped, Lightening didn't sound like a very good name for a quiet horse. Freda led the way to a darker grey horse that stood calmly to one side. Lightening pricked his ears forward curiously at Throttle; Freda gently led the horse round to a mounting block and instructed Throttle how to mount up correctly. Throttle shifted uneasily in the saddle and looked across at Charley who'd already been settled on her mount. Charley was all easy smiles as she slowly walked her horse, Fly-By, round a small area of the yard under Kai's watchful eye. Everyone's attention turned to Kai as his horse Thunder nervously refused to allow his rider to mount. Freda felt a familiar pricking feeling at the back of her mind; something still wasn't right. She called Spirit to her and mounted with a spectacular flying mount; Throttle's eyebrows shot skyward. Freda gently led the way out of the yard; Throttle noted with a sigh of relief that the experienced riders were keeping him and Charley toward the centre of the little group.

Lightening turned out to be very well behaved indeed; apparently he'd been named for the speed he was capable of achieving with a more experienced rider in the saddle. With Throttle however the handsome gelding mooched along sedately, apparently indifferent to Throttle's mistakes as he figured out how to control the gentle animal. Freda laughed and gently corrected his position, rein control and his footing in the stirrups. Soon Throttle had relaxed enough to progress into a gentle trot uphill with Freda as she showed him the land that made up her small farm.

"You must miss this," Throttle spoke thoughtfully as they rode past a wheat field.

"Yes, but I have plans," Freda grinned wickedly, "the herds are getting very large now. I could easily split them and set up shop in Chicago."

"And how would that work?" Throttle asked incredulously, "You're in the middle of a city!"

"Heh, no I'm in the middle of waste ground that needs redeveloping. In the UK there are a few projects that have secured 'green space' for the local community and turned it to agricultural purposes. Some just host communal vegetable plots, but others are actually miniature working farms. It's a really great way of giving city kids easy access to things that country kids just take for granted. Animals are great stress relievers too, lots of people spend time at these projects after a stressful week," Freda explained, "I already talked to Charley and she's ok with the idea of me setting up a scheme like that next door to her in Chicago. The land agent is happy to secure me more land; and the mayor's office thoroughly approved of the scheme. It might also halt Limburger as technically what I set up would be a community project."

"I thought Limburger could still purchase the land from you with that compulsory acquisition order," Throttle sighed, "I doubt a farm and a few animals would stop him."

"Yes, but I emailed the mayor's office and they know nothing about the order yet; besides as they pointed out Chicago already has all the municipal sites it needs. Limburger is fighting a lost cause I think," Freda smiled, "I'm still seeking legal advice for me and Charley. And Gran'dam is furious!"

"Uh-oh," Throttle grimaced, "is this a good thing?"

"Oh Gran'dam is irritating and nosey – even downright outrageous at times, but she's a good woman to have in a fight. Plus it's very much a case of touch one, touch all with my Mom's family," Freda nodded thoughtfully, "I have my Uncles and Aunts, Gran'dam and a small army of legal experts ready to help. Gran'dam is on the warpath already – she was the one who phoned whilst we were waiting for the plane."

"Ah," Throttle smiled, "what about your Dad's folks?"

"They're academics and military," Freda pulled a face, "they'll be supportive, but they don't really understand American law. It's, well, not something that greatly interests them."

"Do your folks live near here?" Throttle asked curiously.

"My Dad does," Freda grinned broadly, "he's coming over for dinner tonight. I think you two will get on well, he's a bit bookish in some ways, but he is still a biker!"

"Bookish is fine by me," Throttle smiled thoughtfully. Their ride had led over Freda's land to a building standing on a hill surrounded by a stone wall. Freda, Kai and Hugh dismounted and tethered their horses by a wrought iron gate. Hugh carefully lifted Charley down, whilst Throttle stiffly slid off Lightening.

"Where are we?" Charley asked excitedly.

"It's the village church," Kai spoke quietly as they entered the churchyard through the small metal gate.

"Is Freda's Mom?" Charley breathed quietly.

"Yeah, this place is special to Freda's family. Her grandparents were married here after World War Two, her Dad and his siblings were all christened here, her parents got married here and then Freda was christened here. Her Mom is under an oak tree near the south wall of the churchyard," Hugh pointed in the direction he meant. Throttle pricked his ears at the information, he felt honoured that Freda should show him and Charley something that evidently meant a lot to her.

"Hey Mom," Freda called cheerfully, "I bought some new friends to see you."

"She talks to her Mom?" Charley gasped.

"Yeah – just try and go with the flow, it's kinda her way of coping," Hugh explained with a sigh. Throttle joined Freda at the graveside, staring down at the pretty spring flowers that already covered the area by the headstone.

"Hey," Throttle breathed quietly. Freda looked up from where she knelt by the grave and smiled warmly.

"Sorry, I probably should have asked you and Charley first before dragging you off to such a gloomy place, but I kinda wanted you both to meet her," Freda looked back at the grave. Throttle took in the ivy growing on the wall behind the gravestone, the flowers, birdsong drifting down from the trees and the warm spring sun that cast its gentle light over the church and its surroundings.

"It's not gloomy, it's beautiful," he whispered.

* * *

just as a clarification Freda is very family orientated [in my original work she's forced into a situation at the age of seven that means she grows up without her family] and she also doesn't deal with death very well. Hence she is very off the rails with her Mom, paternal Grandmother and cousin's deaths.

Feel free to review :) and/or leave constructive criticism :)


	18. Chapter 18 - Father

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

Again this is focussed more on Freda - although Charley and Throttle learn quite a bit about her in a very short space of time!

* * *

Chapter 18 - Father

They rode back up to the house some time later. Throttle marvelled at how quickly he had relaxed with Lightening, he even helped with removing and cleaning the horse's tack. The banter between Kai and Hugh confirmed Throttle's presumption that they were close friends; even the gentle ribbing they gave Freda seemed comradely and so natural. Freda laughed and teased in her turn as she listened to the two men she looked upon as brothers.

Freda set too with a force on preparing dinner, grumbling that her father probably hadn't eaten a decent meal since she left. Hugh rolled his eyes and sat down at the small piano that stood in corner of the kitchen. Charley smiled as he began playing and Bes appeared apparently out of thin air to sit on top of the piano. Throttle pitched in on the food preparation, recognising the outline of a roast taking shape. Freda was making her Dad's favourite, chicken with lemon and herb stuffing. Throttle sniffed appreciatively at the smell of the stuffing as it began cooking.

A knock on the front door, followed by a male voice loudly announcing his presence heralded the arrival of Freda's father. Throttle stood nervously back as a tall, dark man entered the kitchen. Freda flew into his arms and giggled as he lifted her up and swung her around.

"So, anyone care to tell me why you're back so soon?" he asked expectantly.

"The Legacy needs repairs Dad," Freda grinned.

"Of course, it would be too much to hope that you'd missed me eh?" he grinned in reply as he set her back on her feet.

"Well I've been a little too busy to miss anyone," Freda sighed, "Dad; this is Charley who owns the garage that's next door to my house."

"Well hello there," Freda's father followed his daughter's look to see a pretty young women smiling back.

"And this is Throttle," Freda motioned to the Martian male who froze as the human's eyes locked onto him.

"Oh," her father breathed quietly.

"Throttle, Charley – this is my Dad, David. Most people call him Davie though," Freda added coolly, watching her father eying Throttle curiously.

"Hello, sir," Throttle cleared his throat slightly.

"Wow," Davie was still staring.

"Dad!" Freda joggled her father's elbow reminding him of his manners.

"Wha? Oh, sorry, Throttle – just well, I didn't meet Stoker. I was away at a conference, more's the pity," Davie sighed.

"He knows about Stoker?" Throttle looked suspiciously at Freda.

"Yeah – well my shed was kind of totalled! Dad helped rebuild it, I had to explain – and besides Stoker said it'd be ok," Freda shrugged.

"Is he a friend of Stoker's?" a new voice entered the conversation. Charley looked past Davie at the speaker. It was Arnette, now sans hat and sunglasses; suddenly Charley knew why he must be so shy. Arnette's hair was brilliant white and his eyes... were pink! Charley gasped audibly; Arnette stiffened and ducked behind Davie.

"Hey kiddo!" Davie grinned, reaching round to ruffle Arnette's hair.

"Arnette, come in and meet our new friends," Freda encouraged gently. She was rewarded by Arnette sidling out towards her.

"Yeah, I'm a friend of Stoker's," Throttle answered the kid's earlier question. He was trying hard not to stare at the unusual looking human.

"Nettie – this is Throttle, and the lady is Charley. They both live near me in Chicago," Freda grinned, "you still coming to stay?"

"Yeah," Arnette nodded, "I don't want to stay here."

"Okay," Freda frowned; it was unlike Arnette to be so set on something, especially when it involved moving.

"There's been trouble at the university," Davie sighed, "Nettie hasn't coped too well."

Freda drew Arnette into a bear hug, Nettie was like the little brother she'd never had, so she was unsurprised he'd wanted her if people at the uni had been giving him grief.

"Well Chicago has a university," Freda suggested, "they have a history department – you could see if they'll let you transfer."

Arnette nodded and hugged Freda closer. Freda looked at her father and shrugged an apology. Davie nodded quietly; he ought to have known Arnette would never settle with him.

"So you're studying history?" Charley asked in interest.

"Yeah, it'd be nice to study American history too," Arnette's eyes sparkled excitedly, "is there a museum there too?"

"Uh-huh," Freda nodded, "plus Aunt Yui and Uncle Rider live up near Muskegon, which is within driving distance - there's a huge forest there so we could go on long hikes like we used to."

"So what's this I hear about a compulsory something or other? Your Gran'dam has been on the blower scorching my ears off!" Davie asked interestedly.

"Oh Limburger – he's a shady business man, don't worry I think we have it covered. He hasn't filed for it yet and when he does the Mayor is already clued in that he's up to something," Freda shrugged, "it's his goons that bother me more."

"Goons?" Davie sat down heavily in a chair wondering what his only child was up to now.

"Yeah – Greasepit," Freda shuddered, "gave him two shots off my war bow a few days ago – and the fellow has the effrontery to keep walking round!"

"He isn't French by any chance?" Davie raised his eyebrows.

"No clue, but it wouldn't surprise me," Freda chuckled.

"We don't actually know where Greasepit is from – Limburger just found him and hired him from somewhere early in the Plutarkian occupation," Throttle explained.

"So he's not human?" Davie's eyebrows shot skyward.

"Well he looks human..." Charley frowned, "I'd never thought about it!"

"Neither had I..." Throttle grimaced.

"You do know Greasepit is in Chicago right guys?" Freda asked laughing.

"Sorry," Throttle looked sheepish.

"So changing the subject slightly – are you able to take any of the horses with you? I'm guessing you miss them?" Davie enquired.

"Looks like I might be able to yes, I need to look into transport, costs and the legalities, but I'd say it's do-able. The Mayor seems open to the idea," Freda nodded thoughtfully, "but we'll see."

"What about the Legacy?" Kai asked slowly.

"No way – our events are in Europe!" Freda shook her head.

"She's been towed before," Hugh reminded her.

"What about practice? Weekends away?" Freda returned.

"So we'll come to America – the group does have a subsidy fund for such things, courtesy of your good self and a few other people," Kai shrugged.

"I'd like the Legacy in Chicago with us, we could keep a better watch on her," Arnette stuck his chin out defiantly.

"Ok, so I know there's a port and presumably a harbour in Chicago – will they be happy having the Legacy there? What about security? Is there a shipyard nearby qualified to repair her? Is there a dry dock?" Freda shot of questions based on the problems she saw. Charley gasped as she clocked they were talking about a tall ship.

"And something else to consider – will you even be able to get the Legacy to Chicago? Lake Michigan?" Davie added quietly.

"There are water ways connecting it to the ocean – and there's lots of boats in harbour anyway," Charley flushed as she answered, her excitement all too clear.

"Hmmmm," Freda folded her arms and looked pensive.

"Come on! It'd be so great!" Charley beamed. Freda rolled her eyes expressively.

"What is The Legacy?" Throttle asked, finally able to get a word in edgeways.

"A ship – a tall ship, ergo one with masts and sails," Freda sighed, "she's big, old and more than a little cranky!"

"How can a wooden ship get cranky?!" Charley laughed.

"Heh, trust us Charley – the Legacy can get real cranky!" Hugh smiled.

"Well there are other points to consider – like Limburger for instance?" Throttle pointed out, "Can't see him appreciating the history of it – in fact he or one of his goons would probably trash it."

"Right, the Legacy is staying here, and that's final," Freda snapped.

"Awwwww!" Arnette pouted.

They had an amicable dinner, although Kai, Hugh and Arnette kept dropping heavy hints about moving the ship. Charley began to wonder how much further they could push Freda. As the evening wore on the subject was left alone however, and talk turned to amusing stories of their time as re-enactors. Davie was particularly funny as he regaled the company with tales and anecdotes concerning trips, falls and near misses; almost all of which must have been very serious at the time, but were now a source of great amusement. Charley and Throttle joined in the laughing as Freda and Davie recalled the incident of the missing braies; apparently the medieval equivalent of men's' underwear. Davie had apparently been running late and had hurriedly changed from his usual lounge about camp clothing into battle dress complete with armour. He had been mystified when he had walked out of his tent to join the rest of the group, and had been greeted by Freda's loud announcement that Daddy had no pants on. It wasn't until he looked down that he realised he had pulled his hose on without first assuming his linen braies. At the time it had caused him considerable embarrassment and the group considerable amusement. Now Davie good naturedly laughed it off as just another day at a re-enactment show. Throttle sighed, from the guys stories he thought he'd probably enjoy these shows.

Davie finally left and the others began turning in for the night. Freda politely showed Charley and Throttle to the rooms they were to have for the night and asked if they'd both like a nightcap. Throttle frowned at the unfamiliar term, but followed Charley's lead in accepting. He followed the two women into a large, airy room that was evidently a communal area. He whistled as he realised that the doorways leading off it were bedrooms.

"Originally this was meant to be my part of the place, but the guys invaded," Freda chuckled, "the doorway down to your right leads down into a military style dormitory that a lot of the officers bunk in after a long night planning shows. Up to the left leads to my room, Charlie sleeps in a room off the corridor – well more of a broom cupboard than a room, but he seems to like it."

"Charlie?" Charley queried looking mystified.

"Old friend, he was in the Gloucestershire Rifles, but that was a long time ago. He isn't here currently," Freda explained cryptically.

"Did he get hurt?" Charley asked carefully.

"Yup, pretty badly, the physical scars healed, but the mental ones he'll carry for the rest of his life," Freda shook her head, "its hard sometimes, but he's a mate and I'll stand by him no matter what."

"That's probably the best thing you can do," Throttle agreed, "if he's been mentally traumatised he'll need people who are willing to stick it out and not give up on him. He needs to know he's still normal."

"That's pretty much what my Grandfather said," Freda nodded slowly, "anyway nightcap!"

"What you got in mind?" Charley laughed.

"Well, presuming my beloved friends haven't ram-raided my stash there should be a bottle of Drambuie here," Freda lifted up a window seat, "ah hah – still here."

Freda grabbed glasses out of a small cupboard and poured out three servings of the amber liquid. She gave one each to Throttle and Charley and lifted hers in a small salute.

"Slainte," she grinned before taking a gulp. Charley and Throttle took tentative sips if the liquid; Charley hummed her approval.

"Nice – what was the toast?"

"Scotch Gaelic for 'health'," Freda grinned.

"When do we leave for Wales," Throttle asked, as he savoured the taste of the whisky; apparently it was something that was going to grow on him.

"Tomorrow," Freda answered, "if that's ok?"

They both nodded. Freda topped up their glasses and described the place where they'd be camping. Throttle grinned as he listened to Freda's bubbly descriptions of the place they'd be staying. Soon they tripped off to bed, in need of sleep ready for the morning's journey.

* * *

so just as a round off - Charlie won't be showing up - so there shouldn't be any future confusion with Charley. Davie's rib at the French is based off the common [and friendly!] rivalry that exists between a lot of European re-enactors I know - usually it sticks at gentle teasing but it can get quite rude! ;) No offence intended to any French people!

Please review and/or leave constructive criticism :D


	19. Chapter 19 - New Friends

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

I keep debating whether to put info at the top or bottom of the page - have decided to stick it at the bottom as it then doesn't ruin the story with spoilers!

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Chapter 19 – New Friends

Throttle stretched awkwardly in the front seat of the mini bus, they were racing down the roads towards Wales; he wondered absently if Wales looked different to England. Freda's description of 'it's hilly and has mountains' didn't really quite cover it. Charley was chatting animatedly to Freda; the back of the bus was packed with luggage and the dogs and cats. The others had piled into other vehicles for the journey down; Throttle's ears twitched at the mention of his name.

"I dunno if he'd like it Charley," Freda was replying to a question Charley had obviously asked previously.

"Like what?" Throttle asked.

"Oh – we're off to a re-enactment market before I head home, I need some supplies for my kit and we need to stock up group kit with necessaries," Freda hummed, "Charley wants to come with – we wondered if you'd like to come to?"

"Can I think on it?" Throttle asked with a laugh.

"Sure – its next weekend though," Freda warned, "so you have a week and that's it!"

Throttle raised his eyebrows as they rolled from a wide, windy road to a narrow, windy road.

"How do they plan the roads here? Give four year old kids spaghetti?" Charley asked aghast at the crazy corners and junctions.

"It's the landscape, it's hard to build straight roads here," Freda chuckled merrily as she guided the mini bus round a torturous hairpin bend on a hill, that culminated in a sharp turn over a narrow bridge.

"Geez!" Throttle yelped as they met a large lorry coming fast in the other direction.

"We're ok," Freda said reassuringly as the mini bus bounced along the verge.

"That thing nearly hit us! Why the heck did they put such a teeny bridge there?!" Throttle gasped.

"It's an old bridge on an old road," Freda raised an eyebrow.

"Then how about building a nice, new road with a nice, new, wide bridge?" Throttle asked.

"Why – the old one's just fine," Freda giggled; Charley smiled at Throttle.

"Different country, different roads; you've gotten too used to American city roads!" the mechanic gently elbowed the Martian male. Throttle glanced at her and grinned ruefully; the Welsh roads were really testing his nerves.

An hour later Freda turned the mini bus onto a narrow dirt track that went sharply downhill through woodland; Throttle winced as the vehicle careered through vegetation and potholes. Freda pulled up in a clearing by a small river and switched the engine off.

"Well here we are," Freda sighed as she gazed across the river to the small house that had been her mother's favourite retreat.

"Cool," Charley peered at the house, "that where we're staying?"

"Nah, we usually reserve the house for the more 'senior' members of the group," Freda explained with a due sense of respect.

"Senior – you're senior aren't you?" Throttle chuckled as he climbed down carefully.

"Er Throttle – I don't have grey hair!" Freda whispered meaningfully.

"Oh," the Martian Commander's eyes went wide as the penny dropped. Freda opened up the back door for the dogs to jump down.

"Right, where do you guys wanna camp?" Freda asked dragging a large bundle of canvas out and shouldering it.

"Ummmm, how's about you pick a good spot?" Charley suggested, "Do you need anything else?"

"There's some wooden poles lurking in the bus somewhere, along with the peg bag and mallet – if you could fetch them over that'd be great," Freda called as she forded the river and strode over to the spot she usually pitched her tent on. She began unfolding the tent carefully; Throttle joined her and looked on in wonder at the size of the tent. Charley appeared carrying poles and a canvas bag; the dogs happily bounded round and over the tent.

"Whoa! That is a tent!" Charley whistled.

"Yeah," Freda grinned, "it takes at least three people to set it up though – you guys up for helping?"

"Sure," Throttle shrugged, the canvas was big, but he guessed it couldn't be that hard.

"Ok – basic outline, this is what we call a campaign tent; the canvas gets stretched over a set up of three poles and pegged in place," Freda explained, "so first we peg the back of the tent out loosely."

She took the peg bag from Charley, fished the mallet and some pegs out, and hooked the tent loops over them before driving the pegs into the ground. Throttle watched curiously as Freda set the mallet aside, picked up two short poles and slotted them together to form a longer pole. She flipped a flap of canvas back and tied the pole in place using the ties that were sewn there for that purpose. She grabbed two long poles and slotted them home into each end of the roof pole.

"Right, Throttle – grab the other pole, now we need to slowly tip the poles upright so the back canvas goes taut," Freda instructed. She nodded encouragingly as Throttle mimicked her movements.

"Whoa – this is heavy going!" Throttle grunted as a gust of wind caught the canvas and threatened to flatten the structure.

"Yeah, it can be," Freda hummed, "okay – Charley grab this pole and I'll get two pegs in out front and you should be able to let go then."

Freda disappeared out and began aligning the front of the tent with the poles and the back of the tent. She quickly hammered the two pegs home; calling softly to Charley and Throttle when it was safe to let go. Throttle ducked out of the tent and picked up a spare mallet.

"So the canvas has to taut right?" he enquired picking up some pegs.

"Yup, its rectangle shaped but the narrow ends are semi-circular if that gives you an idea of how to peg it out," Freda explained as Charley disappeared back to the bus to get more of the camping gear out, "awwww – sod it!"

"What?" Throttle stood up and looked at Freda, whose expression had suddenly gone very downcast.

"Ground sheet! I always forget the wretched groundsheet!" Freda growled glaring at the green plastic groundsheet that Charley had just unpacked.

"Could we put it down now?" Throttle asked, unsure as to what the problem was.

"Yeah – it's just a fiddle doing it afterwards. Gah!" Freda moaned in heartfelt annoyance. The sound of approaching vehicles drew her attention.

"Oi! Chief!" a loud voice called from the clearing.

"Hiya Kettle!" Freda shouted back, "There's a young lady called Charley over there unpacking kit."

"Ah-ha! Damsel in distress! We're on it!" Kettle cheerfully shouted back, before turning to his companions.

Charley listened to the exchange with interest, her expression turned to amusement at the term 'damsel in distress'. She wasn't too sure how to take it. A handsome, dark haired man swung round the side of the bus.

"You'll be Charley then?" he grinned, relieving her of the bags she'd been pulling out of the bus.

"Er, yeah," Charley grinned up at the 6' plus hunk.

"Name's John Farr – most people just call me Oak though," Oak grinned wolfishly, "so you fight?"

"Fight – oh no – I'm not a re-enactor!" Charley gasped.

"Pity – I'd you pegged as a feisty billhook lady myself," Oak chuckled, "ahhh, another illusion destroyed."

"Oh, okay," Charley raised her eyebrows, unsure quite what to make of Oak.

"Oak, shift your oversized hide over the river and give Chief a hand – daft bint's forgotten her ground sheet again!" Kettle appeared and leant into the bus, "Any other camp equipment in here then Charley?"

"I have no idea," Charley murmured, watching Kettle's naked shoulders and back disappear and his trousers pull tight over his back side. She coloured slightly and looked away. She didn't know what he did in the group, but he sure was hot as hell with his muscles!

"Yeah, cooking stuff's here and chairs and that – you ok?" Kettle looked sidelong at her.

"Ummm, yeah – anything I can carry?" Charley mumbled.

"Plank chair?" Kettle offered, holding two pieces of wood out; he'd noted Charley's embarrassment.

"Thanks," Charley made good her escape to the other side of the river. Freda grinned slightly at Charley's precipitate departure from the bus.

"Let me guess – Kettle's got his shirt off?" Freda grinned knowingly.

"Um – yeah, I guess it's a frequent occurrence?" Charley asked lightly as she grounded the wood and walked over to the now full pegged tent.

"Heh – yeah, but only when he's with us; rest of the time Kettle tends to be very shy indeed!" Freda laughed.

"Kettle?" Throttle frowned, "That's not his name is it?"

"Nickname – derived from the fact he always wears a form of helmet known as a kettle helm when we go on the field," Freda shrugged, "it suits him!"

"What's his real name?" Charley asked curiously.

"John," Kettle answered as he carried more kit over. Charley squeaked in surprise before latching her attention to the strange metal object Kettle had bought with him. It looked like a very large metal box on four legs; it had no lid, but did have strange loops that looked like things could be bolted on to it.

"Fire rig," Kettle nodded at the metal, "take it ya want your dinner?"

"Well – yeah but what has the –er – fire rig, got to do with dinner?" Charley enquired dubiously.

"Well you set it up, get a fire going and then pop a pot over it and a voila! We have a cooker – found at re-enactment events everywhere!" Oak flung his arms out and walloped someone in the face.

"You mind looking before flinging your arms out you goof ball?!" an angry female voice asked rhetorically.

"Heh, sorry Michelle," Oak grinned down at the enraged woman.

"You oversized, pea-brained, imbecilic..." the five foot female ranted up at him.

"Mich-y," Freda sighed, "it was an accident. Oak already said he was sorry."

"Yeah well," Mich-y stood down rather reluctantly.

"Throttle, Charley – this is Michelle, we call her Mich-y for short; do try and keep on her good side. And the tall lunk is Oak, that's his brother Ash, and tweedle dum over there is Kettle – he's our Captain of Polearms," Freda presented brief introductions, "Who's in the second car?"

"Tom, Matti and Joey - I think," Kettle frowned and stared at the car. The occupants were round the back of the mini bus unloading the rest of the luggage.

"Ok – only a few more and we should all be here," Freda hummed. As the others strode off to get other tents up and finish setting up camp Throttle meandered over to Freda.

"Freda?" he said cautiously waiting for her non-committal hum before continuing, "Have they not noticed?"

"Noticed what?" Freda raised her eyebrows.

"That I'm..."

"A giant mouse from Mars? Yeah – uh-huh – we noticed," Oak grinned cheerily as he swung past with more tent poles. Throttle felt a clap on his back and turned to find Kettle looking quizzically at him.

"What are we meant to do Throttle?" the Captain asked.

"Er – I dunno?" Throttle sounded so puzzled the small group couldn't help bursting out laughing.

"Seriously – I think we've all seen weirder things in our time!" Mich'y grinned from where she was pegging wooden chairs together.

"Yeah, Arnette isn't the only one who's a little – unusual," Oak chuckled, "Chief has a habit of 'collecting' them!"

"I do not 'collect' them!" Freda replied in annoyance, "It's more to do with the fact that we all treat them like normal human beings instead of something out of a freak show! This isn't Victorian England!"

"Whoa – chill pill Chief!" a tall, black headed man appeared round Kettle, he looked at the dark haired Captain of Polearms, "Do I even need to ask who wound her up?"

"No," Kettle nodded in Oak's direction. The newcomer shrugged and looked at Throttle and Charley.

"I'm Tom – I Captain the archers," he grinned, his green eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Hiya," Charley grinned back.

"Oh brother," Throttle sighed as two more people made an appearance.

"It's ok Throttle; we know when to keep our traps shut!" Mich-y soothed, "The blond one's Joey – you probably met his older brother Josh already, and the mousey one's Matti."

The two young men nodded cordially to the group. Charley rolled her eyes heavenward; Freda might have warned her about how many hunky men were there were going to be. Freda's eyes drifted toward the track way as another car rolled down.

"Finally!" she snorted, "I was beginning to think they'd managed to get themselves lost and gone to Brecon again!"

"Heh – you are neeeeever gonna forget that are you Chief?" Joey laughed as his older brother hopped out of the car and give them all a cheery wave.

"No, no I am not," Freda grinned and waved back, "well that's Josh, Hugh, Arnette and Ginny."

"Is that every one?" Throttle asked incredulously.

"Nah, I know some others wanted to come, and there might be a few who turn up unannounced," Freda shrugged, "they already know about Stoker and they know to keep you guys a secret."

"How do they know about Stoker?" Charley voiced the question that had surfaced in Throttle's mind.

"He crash-landed in one of my sheds? Oh and the group happened to be crashing at my place after a show," Freda raised her eyebrows, "his arrival wasn't exactly low profile!"

"Hey – is Alec coming down?" Oak asked.

"Alec?" Throttle groaned.

"Maybe – he's pretty busy doing... well whatever it is he does all day!" Freda laughed, before explaining to a puzzled Charley, "Alec's a biologist – luckily for worrywart over there he's a marine biologist!"

"And that makes it better how?" Throttle grimaced, "He's still a scientist."

"Ok he's a scientist, he'll squint at you through his specs and mutter 'interesting' or 'fascinating', but unless you sprout flippers and fins in the next 24hr period he's unlikely to remain interested in you for very long," Freda smiled, "chill – you're with friends here."

"Flippers and fins? Oh ho – how about we give Limburger to Alec – I'm sure a marine biologist would love such a – er – stellar specimen?" Charley smiled evilly.

"Charley – do not – I repeat, do not put ideas in that woman's head!" Kettle warned with a meaningful look at Freda.

"What? What! What! What!" Freda tried to look shocked and failed miserably; despite himself, even Throttle couldn't help laughing.

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lols I have a very healthy respect for Welsh roads ;) having lived in Wales whilst studying for my degree - most of my friends reactions mirrored Throttle's on their first encounter with any journey to and from Lampeter!

ok - just for people who want a clear mental image of Freda's tent, I've always known it as a campaign tent but it is actually closer to a French double belled wedge tent - ie the front flap lifts up to create an awning.

And again Freda's friends are fairly typical of re-enactors in general - not necessarily chauvinistic just big teases and even bigger flirts!

Feel free to review or leave constructive criticism :)


	20. Chapter 20 - Nightmare

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

Last chapter for this upload at least :D

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Chapter 20 – Nightmare

Only one person showed up as the afternoon wore on into the evening; Alec. Throttle was relieved to find that the scientist took no more note of him than a polite greeting. The meal that Freda and Mich-y prepared was nothing short of excellent. Both Charley and Throttle found themselves wondering at how so delicious a meal could be conjured from basic ingredients, over a very basic cooking rig. They drank water with the meal, but afterwards a drinking horn was produced and the mead flowed freely. Throttle had settled comfortably into a sturdy looking wooden armchair away from the fire rig which was throwing off an astonishing amount of heat. He surveyed the company curiously as they bantered and laughed amongst themselves; they were very sociable, sitting in a circle so no one was left out of the overall group. A lot of them seemed musically inclined and instruments were bought forth to play tunes and songs that everyone seemed to know but him. He sighed sadly; they were wonderful company, but he still felt painfully alone amongst them. He jumped slightly as Freda thumped down in a chair next to him.

"Whatcha doing?" she slurred slightly, a happy smile on her face as she regarded him.

"Oh, just watching and listening – I don't know these songs," Throttle gulped. Freda waved the mead bottle she was holding under his nose.

"Have a drink," she grinned as he carefully tipped the bottle back and swilled some of the sweet contents into his mouth. On the other side of the circle Hugh and Kai were teaching Charley how to quaff from the drinking horn, all three laughing as Charley dribbled the liquid down each side of her face.

"Like?" Freda asked.

"Yeah, I like it," Throttle grinned, "I better not have too much though – I'm not sure drunken Martian is a good idea."

"Why not? We got Stoker drunk on ale and mead and he was fine," Freda took a swig herself, "you worry too much – come on have another swig."

"Well - okay then," Throttle decided to throw caution to the wind and took a larger swig than before.

"Say, you don't know what we're singin' about do you?" Freda asked watching him, Throttle shook his head and she continued, "How's about we teach you some? Most of what we sing has retipe... repetiv... repeti... the chorus is the same – you just sing it after each verse."

Throttle couldn't help chuckling at Freda's problems with the word repetitive.

"I would, but I can't sing," Throttle murmured quietly to her.

"Nonsense!" Freda laughed, "I've heard that one before and it's all guff! Course you can sing!"

"Course who can sing?" Kettle enquired turning his head to look in their direction.

"Throttle," Freda jerked her head toward the embarrassed Martian.

"Yeah – we all sing, don't all sound that good, but we all sing," Kettle nodded, "why don't we sing drunken sailor? That's a fun one and it's good if you're not a confident singer coz you can just say or chant the words."

"Sounds good t' me," Freda grinned lazily, "Throttle?"

"Okay, okay," Throttle recognised defeat when he saw it. They started playing the tune and he listened, it seemed an easy enough tune to follow. Freda sang the chorus through twice so he could listen to it and then they all joined in. Throttle was surprised to find Freda was right; he could sing quite well. He wasn't necessarily very skilled or very tuneful, but there again neither were some of the others. They continued playing songs that he and Charley could easily join in with; some of the group sang solo and others sang duets. Throttle flattened his ears at the sound of Kettle's atrocious Scots accent as he and Alec wailed their way through Loch Lomond. Charley burst into a fit of the giggles and ended up nearly choking herself halfway through the song, only to be rescued by a thump on the back from Kai.

By the end of the evening everyone had had more alcohol than was good for them and nobody really gave a hoot. Freda cheerfully and drunkenly asked if anyone had given a thought to sleeping arrangements.

"'m sharing wi' youse n' Charley n' Ginny," Mich'y giggled, slinging comradely arms around Charley and Ginny's shoulders, "n' I bagsy Freda's ca'paign tent fer us."

"Suits me," Kettle drawled, "me n' Oak, n' Ash, n' Tom will crash in the small bell tent."

Freda nodded wondering hazily if Tom and Kettle would succeed in getting Oak and Ash into the bell tent in one piece. Oak's younger brother Ash was shorter than his brother but a lot bawdier, especially when drunk.

"Well that's Kettle's boys taken care of, n' Tom's t'only archer here currently," Freda paused trying to formulate words, "so that leaves my lot."

"Your lot?" Throttle enquired lifting his head from where he'd been holding it in his hands.

"Yeah – the swords are mine, all mine," Freda grinned wickedly.

"Reckon we could squish into the large bell tent for tonight," Hugh waved a vague hand at the corresponding tent.

"Seriously? Seven of you in that?" Charley gasped.

"Had twelve in there afore now," Freda chuckled, "makes fer cosy sleepy time – especially on cold nights like t'night."

"Riiiiight," Charley sounded less than convinced.

"Ummmm, Freda?" Throttle queried quietly.

"Ooooopsy!" Freda slapped him on the shoulder, "Sorry – guys what about Throttle?"

"Arrrrr, with all that fur I's guessing the bell tent ain't gonna be comfortable – it's gonna get toasty in there," Kettle ran his hand through his long hair, "there's a space in the small bell if ya really want it – but personally I'd say go in with the ladies if they'll have ya."

"There's a spare," Throttle paused drunkenly, "spare tent, I'll sleep in there. Like ya say – heat wise n' all, n' I got fur."

"Huh – I give ya half an hour tops before you bang on our door!" Mich-y slurred challengingly.

"Mich-y? Tent's don't have doors you can knock on," Ginny yawned.

"Whatever," Mich-y replied drunkenly waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.

Throttle crawled into the small soldier's tent between the big bell and campaign tents and kicked off his boots. He flopped onto one of the two small camp cots that the group had set up in there. Shivering, he rolled himself in one of the blankets he found on the bed and was amazed to find that he couldn't get warm; an hour later and he was still shivering. Apparently March in Wales was very cold. He sat up shakily and shoved his feet back into his boots. He trudged wearily round to the girl's tent.

"How d'ya do Throttle!" Mich-y's voice rang out from within, "Told ya ya'd freeze ya tail off!"

"No ya didn't – ya said ya – hic – gave him half an hour – hic – top's before he came round here," Ginny scolded, hiccupping loudly, "n' ya lost that bet – hic – missy coz it's been an hour!"

"Come on in Throttle," Freda's head appeared round the flap of canvas that provided entrance to the tent. Throttle stepped in gratefully; it was noticeably warmer in the tent than it was outside. The girls had a small oil lamp burning low in the centre of the tent; the floor was covered with rugs and sheep skins and some of the dogs had moved in to sleep. Throttle gasped as he realised the dogs were wearing fairly thick coats despite the overall warmth in the tent. He let out a small grunt of surprise as an unfamiliar weight settled on his shoulders; he looked down to find a wool cloak round him. Freda grinned and pulled it round him more fully.

"Come n' sit down," Freda waved to cot, and Throttle sank gratefully down as Freda looked at him, "you got socks on?"

"Wha... no," Throttle grimaced; trying desperately not to chuckle at the random question.

"They don't wear socks," Charley slurred sleepily from the cot she had snuggled down in.

"Okay – well you might have to if this weather keeps up," Freda warned, "it was meant to be quite mild this week, but looks like we got ourselves a cold snap!"

"Great," Throttle's teeth chattered slightly; he felt like the cold was beginning to eat his very bones.

"Hmmm hmmm," Freda hummed in concern, "best place for you is bed!"

She nudged Throttle off the cot and shoved him toward another on the other side of the large tent.

"It's a little crowded in here," Throttle shivered as Freda pulled the blankets back for him.

"Get used to it – we always sleep like this on re-enactments and when we're camping," Freda smiled, pushing Throttle's shoulders to make him sit down before kneeling and pulling his biker boots off. Throttle flipped the cloak off his shoulders and slipped under the blankets. The padding on the cot was very soft, he was unsurprised to discover it was sheep skin, and the woollen blankets over the top made for a cosy cocoon. Freda draped the cloak over the bottom of the bed to provide an extra layer of warmth.

"Right, night, night ladies," she grinned at Ginny and Mich-y before collapsing into her own cot. The two remaining girls grumbled slightly, but made their way to their own cots. Throttle flicked his ears bashfully as he realised they must have waited up for him. Ginny called a low warning to the effect they all better be in bed and settled, before blowing out the oil lamp. The ensuing total darkness was somewhat unnerving and Throttle's ears twitched at the unfamiliar sounds that surrounded them. Outside the wind moaned softly; whilst in the tent, canvas and poles creaked and groaned, bed boards squeaked slightly and a soft rustling came from the blankets as they moved about his body with each movement. The bedding felt comfortably heavy around him as he began to warm up. Finally his eyes drifted shut and the nightmare started.

_Mars. He sniffed the air; the scent of blood and smoke hit his nose. Blindly he stumbled toward the Freedom Fighter Headquarters, smoke hung in the air making it difficult to breathe, see or smell. The scene shifted; he was in Carbine's Office the Martian General lying across her desk, her body torn and ravaged by an unknown enemy. The Mess Hall; his old comrades' dead or dying, his eyes took in the sight of the younger generation of Freedom Fighters their bodies ripped open. He gagged at the sight of Rimfire and Primer's mutilated remains before everything went black. Earth; Charley's garage had collapsed, she was dead – he didn't even need to look to know that. Modo and Vinnie shot through over and over because he'd failed. He'd failed them all. Through it all he could hear Karbunkle's maniacal laughter over and over and over._

"Throttle!" the urgent whisper penetrated his fear frozen mind. Throttle blinked slightly, slipped his specs on and found Freda knelt by his cot a look of concern writ clear upon her face in the light of the torch she held.

"Sorry," he mumbled, how much noise had he made? Freda rubbed his upper left arm comfortingly.

"Bad dreams?" she asked quietly, the other three were still asleep.

"Yeah," Throttle agreed groggily.

"Come on – lets walk," Freda pulled the cloak up from the bottom of the bed.

"What?" Throttle's ears twitched.

"Come on," Freda's voice took on a note of insistence he couldn't refuse. Wearily he dragged himself up and pulled his boots on. Standing he wrapped the thick cloak round himself and followed Freda out into the night. The moon was high, casting a shimmering light across the dell they were camped in. Freda picked a path leading downhill, toward the sound of waves. Throttle took a deep breath and fell into step beside her.

"So care to talk?" Freda asked as their feet hit the sandy beach.

"Well," Throttle flicked his ears down in embarrassment.

"You don't have to – it's just an offer. Talking sometimes helps," Freda smiled softly, her face lit by the moonlight. Throttle puffed slightly and slowly began to recount what he had seen in the nightmare. Freda listened quietly, her face registering no emotion.

"I could hear Karbunkle laughing, and I knew everything was my fault," Throttle ended with a heavy sigh.

"Well first of all none of that has happened – and none of it is going to happen," Freda said sternly.

"Okay," Throttle gulped.

"Second, I think the reason your mind conjured up those images is probably to do with you feeling guilty over being stressed. I know you're really cut up over getting left off the team that went to Limburger's before we left," Freda glanced at him, "you know I'm partly to blame for that."

"Yeah? Well I kinda figured you might be, it's not like Stoker _and_ Carbine to jump to the same decision so readily. There had to be someone else involved; but I guess I'm sweating the small stuff huh?" Throttle shuffled his feet in the sand.

"Not really, it's important to you, so naturally you worry. Look at it this way, if I gave you a glass of water – how heavy would it be?" Freda sat down on a rocky outcrop and looked up at him.

"As heavy as a glass of water?" Throttle shrugged in confusion, he couldn't see what Freda was getting at.

"So if you carried it all day every day how heavy would it get?" Freda was still giving him a really strange look.

"It wouldn't, it's still the same glass of water," Throttle groaned, he was too tired for riddles.

"Precisely – it is still the exact same glass of water, but it would feel heavier because you'd been carrying it round so long. Now think of all your problems, and worries, and troubles – they are like that glass of water," Freda paused, "they are exactly the same everyday – they don't get worse and they don't get better, but they feel heavier because you have carried them about so long."

"Oh," Throttle suddenly realised what Freda was saying.

"Now I know it's the hardest thing in the world sometimes – but you have got to let go. Let Stoker and Carbine worry about Limburger, take a break, and enjoy yourself! Let the glass stand empty for a while, then try tackling things one at a time," Freda grinned, "making sense?"

"Yeah – a lot actually," Throttle smiled softly, "that's why you bought me with you right? To relax?"

"That and you are bodyguard in chief!" Freda poked her tongue out, "Now what problems are there?"

"Dealing with Limburger – but you already suggested a possible course of action on that front. Vinnie's been driving me mad..."

"So spend more time away from the white fur ball?" Freda suggested before Throttle could continue.

"Yeah, that'd be a plus. Um, dealing with injuries and bike problems – we always turn to Charley and I feel guilty. My relationship with Carbine feels wrong. I'm worried about folks back on Mars, Carbine doesn't say much, but I know things are getting really, really rough up there. Me and the bro's are living the high life down here, yet back home folks don't even have enough food or water, let alone clothing or basic stuff like that. Mar's ecosystem is basically wrecked – again I'm no help at all. They can't grow crops because of the water shortage and a lot of plant and animal species are dying out. I just feel so helpless!"

"Okay – long list!" Freda chuckled softly, "well as for Charley I don't think she minds at all – in fact she'd probably be upset by you worrying! Injuries you can always call on me if you'd prefer to split it – then Charley just has the bikes."

"Cool," Throttle nodded and sat down on the rocks.

"Right – if you're not happy with your relationship, tell Carbine! Sometime's a relationship between two people in the same military unit doesn't work – heck I've dated most of the lads in my re-enactment at one time or another. None of them really worked out, especially when I was dating another of the group officers. Maybe you and Carbine need space to work out if you are still a couple. And Throttle, you owe it to Carbine to let her know how you're feeling – who knows she might even feel the same?" Freda paused, but no reaction came from Throttle, "as for Mar's problems I daresay the group might just be able to help out."

"How?" Throttle looked startled.

"Well apart from the fact I'm not the only one with money! Heh, we do lots of charity and aid work around the world, so we're kinda good on the knowing how to get stuff front!" Also the knowing what people need and being able to find it front!" Freda shrugged, "Some of us come from wealthier backgrounds than others, but some of the group come from really poor backgrounds. I can't even imagine some of what they describe, but I know it's true."

"Yeah but..."

"But nothing, the majority of us aren't doing anything currently – at least not so far as fundraising and charity work is concerned so I expect the guys would love to help," Freda grinned, "on the ecosystem thing – I'll talk to Carbine when we get back. I think I can very definitely help you there – and before you raise objections I want to do this!"

* * *

:) So yup the circle thing, drinking, singing etc is typical re-enactors - we're not necessarily brilliant at it but it makes for a good laugh :)

Feel free to review and/or leave constructive criticism :)


	21. Chapter 21 - The Legacy

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

okay :) sorry for the long wait on this one - life has decided to go rather too fast of late - seriously stuff happening this fast should be illegal globally! And suddenly I realise its like two weeks since I last posted chapters up! :0

Thank you to everyone who left reviews/comments it's really helpful to hear what others think of my writing :D and a special thank you to the anonymous reviewer! :D

* * *

Chapter 21 – The Legacy

Throttle was surprised to find he was up early the next day despite the late night and the even later chat. He found Freda brewing coffee over the fire rig.

"Want some?" she asked as Throttle wandered over.

"Yeah, please," he nodded sleepily.

"You ok to wait on the others for breakfast?" Freda looked at him questioningly as she handed him a mug.

"Yeah, I'm not real hungry right now," Throttle swilled the contents of the coffee mug round before taking an experimental sip, "hmmm, tastes better than normal."

"Camp coffee, according to the group it always tastes better!" Freda grinned, "I'm heading down to the ship – wanna come?"

Throttle nodded his agreement and followed Freda down to the beach. He whistled softly as he took in the beauty of the area which he'd not fully appreciated the previous night. Nothing prepared him for the awesomely magnificent sight which he had completely missed; The Legacy. How he had not clocked her presence before he couldn't imagine. She rose up from the water like a mountain, the sheer height of the masts and the size of the hull took his breath away. Freda tripped lightly down the long jetty that the group had built specially for the tall ship. Throttle twitched his ears at the sound of the sea below the wooden planking; he was not all together sure he liked having water swirling about under the structure he was walking on. There appeared to be a deep channel in the bay that easily allowed the ship to dock close to shore. Throttle gave a small sigh of relief as he reached the ship; only to gasp as the massive structure heaved away from the jetty, its movement checked by the mooring ropes.

"You're welcome to come aboard," Freda called from her place on deck.

"Right," Throttle hopped awkwardly onto the moving structure. He took a few moments to gain his balance before looking around interestedly. Mars had never built anything like this that he was aware of. He gazed upward at the welter of ropes and wood; Freda chuckled.

"And they all have names," she chuckled and shrugged before wandering off.

"So – what's wrong?" Throttle queried as he watched Freda inspect different parts of the over head workings.

"Well we have several friends who keep friendly eyes on her whilst we're away, plus some of the group live close by – apparently something had broken in the rigging," Freda looked up puzzled. Throttle racked his brains before remembering that the ropes would be the rigging and the wood holding them and the sails were the masts. He whistled softly, surely it couldn't be that simple, he rubbed his neck as he fought to remember the tantalising bit of information regarding tall ships that refused to come forward.

"Blast it all!" Freda growled in annoyance, stirring Throttle from his somewhat fruitless line of thought.

"Huh – er – what?" Throttle coughed slightly and meandered over to where Freda stood glaring up at the smallest of the three masts.

"Blasted t'gallant yard on the mizzen – we'll have to re-fit now, we've an event coming up soon," Freda scowled at the offending yard.

"Right so that's what exactly?" Throttle squinted upwards.

"The mizzen is the shortest mast on a three mast ship like The Legacy, the foremast at the front is in the middle height wise, and the main is the tallest of all and is located in the centre. Each mast has yards attached via slings, the yards then carry the sails. In this case the spar that's broken is the t'gallant or top gallant yard – carrying the corresponding sail obviously," Freda reeled off the information as she continued to stare upwards.

"Spar?" Throttle queried.

"Oh, the masts and yards are made of spars – we have a spar deck below where we keep some necessary spares," Freda hummed.

"Oh," Throttle nodded slightly, "isn't there a way of taking them down so they don't break?"

"Yes there is, but most of the time we don't bother," Freda admitted contritely, "case of time and man power."

"I see, so what's involved?" Throttle asked curiously.

"Trust me you do not want to know the answer to that question this early!"

Breakfast turned out to be a noisy affair; despite the high alcohol consumption of the previous evening no one seemed to be hung over. Freda had cooked up a massive spread and the re-enactors tucked in quickly; Charley and Throttle were slower on the uptake.

"Seriously? You guys always eat like this?" Charley looked askance at the array of fatty foods.

"Only when we're camping out and it's cold – helps you stay warm," Hugh mumbled in between mouthfuls.

"Yeah, sure," Charley picked up a piece of toast and began eating.

"And how do you hit on that logic?" Throttle asked dubiously.

"Seriously Throttle? Don't ask," Alec winked cheerfully.

"Right, so popular opinion huh?" Throttle raised his eyebrows.

"Uh-huh, yeah, we have a lot of 'facts' wafting about the group that are in fact popular opinion," Alec rolled his eyes, "and argument is futile."

"Heh, no reasoning with some people," Throttle grinned helping himself to more bacon.

"Nope, especially on historic mysteries – everyone has an opinion, no one knows who's right," Ginny grinned evilly, "certain subjects are to be avoided on pain of death."

"How can you argue about history?" Charley shook her head, "It's a bunch of facts."

"Ahhhh but how do we determine fact?" Freda retorted.

"Charley – you just had to..." Alec groaned, "that is like a red rag to the proverbial bull when there's a historian not two feet away."

"History is almost always written by the victors – so fact is whatever they decide it is," Freda waggled her eyebrows, "so imagine if you and Limburger both wrote a serious historical article about events in Chicago – how much would you agree on?"

"Not much," Throttle grimaced.

"Exactly, so which is the more factual? Neither – they're both correct, both factual; they're just different people's views of the same situation," Freda grinned, "which is why history can be totally mind blowing at times!"

"Who or what is Limburger?" Alec asked curiously.

"Ahhhhhh, now here we enter a dangerous topic," Kai laughed; Alec gave him a puzzled look.

"Limburger is a Plutarkian who is trying to steal earth's resources – mainly in the Chicago area. And there are others like him," Freda shrugged, "Throttle and his friends are busy stopping him – rather successfully I might add."

"So he's an alien?" Alec murmured the fires of curiosity beginning to rage inside him.

"Hmmmm, even better than that Alec," Freda purred, "he's an alien that looks like a humanoid fish."

"Wow," Alec intoned thoughtfully, his face set into a peaceful look of very deep thought.

"Freda!" Charley gasped. Kettle gave her an 'I told you so' look, but remained tactfully silent.

"Actually Alec might be useful," Throttle shifted nervously, "he'd probably know how to make Limburger uncomfortable – very uncomfortable."

"Yeah," Alec murmured, "but this guy – Limburger – he's humanoid? And he doesn't live in water?"

"Yes to both," Freda looked curiously at her friend, "Alec?"

"He'd be like a missing link," Alec muttered.

"Missing link?" Charley repeated incredulously.

"Ahhh – the wondrous term used to define key species that are throwbacks to the earlier forms of life and evolution," Hugh grunted.

"Or ones that have survived from those periods; the term is commonly applied to human evolution," Alec added quietly, "amazing. Absolutely amazing."

"Well you were right about one thing," Throttle grinned, "he sure wasn't this interested in me!"

"You lack certain attributes," Freda laughed, "as I believe I mentioned."

"Yeah you did," Throttle's grin got even broader.

"If he's out of water then – yeah – but he'd still be – hmmm – I wonder," Alec muttered distractedly, "can he still breathe in water?"

"Er – yes, he can," Throttle nodded.

"So he's amphibious?" Alec pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"Not exactly, they don't need water to reproduce," Throttle shook his head.

"Hmmm so semi-aquatic –but predominantly by choice I'm imagining," Alec hummed thoughtfully, "I'll need to do some research, but yeah maybe I can be of help. Something off the top of my head is Limburger probably won't react well to getting very dry, and his skin could well be sensitive."

"Cool, so we plonk him in the middle of a desert with no water or sun cream?" Charley suggested.

"Essentially, yes," Alec shrugged.

"Alec – this can't go any further than you," Freda warned.

"I know, I know – don't worry I won't breathe a word. Technically I can do research for this along with what I already work on so no one will notice," Alec grinned, "and this is way more interesting anyway!"

"Alec, you are incorrigible!" Freda laughed, "Right any more for any more?"

The group agreed wistfully that as most of the serving plates were already empty, breakfast was probably done. Throttle volunteered to help Ginny and Charley clear down and wash up; whilst Freda took the others off to look at The Legacy. Throttle's ears twitched as the sound of an engine registered.

"Are we expecting more people?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, I think a few of the guys didn't quite make it last night so they must have stopped somewhere and then come on this morning," Ginny chuckled, "not everyone drives as fast as the guys who arrived yesterday; besides we all come from different parts of the country – and some of us aren't even UK based!"

"So you have international members?" Charley raised her eyebrows.

"Sort of – some of them are members of our group, some are members of groups we're associated with on the continent," Ginny explained, "it gets a little complicated."

"Ummm, Ginny? There's a bright yellow car just pulled up," Throttle stared at the small vehicle and its two occupants.

"Eeeeeeeeeee!" Ginny squealed, "Helen came! And she must have picked the Major up as well!"

"Helen? The Major? Who?" Charley frowned slightly.

"Oh you'll love them – Helen's great fun! She's an artist and a craft worker. The Major is an old military hand who hangs round with us," Ginny bubbled as the two people approached. Throttle found himself wondering why a Major would hang round with re-enactors.

"Morning Ginny," the Major rumbled, he had long grey hair and a trim figure despite his obviously advancing years.

"Morning," Ginny grinned, "you missed breakfast."

"No matter – we ate on the road, I see Freda brought the dogs back with her then?" the Major fussed Tam who had appeared at his side.

"Yeah, she did – the others are down at the ship," Ginny nodded in the direction of the sea.

"Any idea what's wrong?" the Major frowned in concern.

"Nope," Ginny shook her head.

"The t-gallant spar is damaged somehow," Throttle said helpfully.

"Which one?" Ginny and the Major asked in unison.

"Oh – it was on the... missen mast is it?" Throttle scowled as he tried to remember the word Freda had used.

"Mizzen mast – hmmmm, wonder how that happened then," the Major mumbled, "I'll go down and take a look see. Helen is moving into the house as we speak – if she asks tell her I'll move my kit in a minute."

The Major trotted off toward the beach and The Legacy's mooring place. Ginny grinned as the sun finally decided to put in an appearance.

"The Major?" Throttle stared at the figure now strolling down to the beach.

"Heh, yeah we call him that but he's not really," Ginny grinned mischievously.

"So what rank is he?" Charley queried with genuine interest.

"No idea, all I know is he was in the military. Freda nicknamed him the Major when he joined the group," Ginny shrugged.

"So he's a lower rank – or higher?" Throttle pondered.

"Higher – I think, but I honestly don't know," Ginny looked puzzled, "he never talks about the army; I think he wants to forget."

"Bit strange isn't it?" Charley raised her eyebrows.

"A little I guess, but that part of his life is behind him now. Still I guess those two will be happy enough in the house," Ginny murmured, watching Helen appear out of the door. The older woman strolled over.

"Washing up duty again Ginny? Who're your helpers?" Helen asked helping herself to coffee.

"This is Charley from Chicago and this is Throttle," Ginny nodded to each in turn.

"You related to Stoker?" Helen enquired eying Throttle.

"Er, no, I just come from the same place," Throttle answered nervously.

"Fair enough," Helen grinned, "just ignore my random questions – I ask a lot."

"So how's life?" Ginny asked suddenly.

"Going ok, I've some work going off to exhibition, plenty of commissions and no sign of any holiday periods any time soon," Helen smiled, her eyes twinkling, "you youngsters will have to kidnap me again won't you?"

"Sure thing – which event would you like kidnapping for?" Ginny poked her tongue out slightly.

"Well, Tewkesbury is always a good one," Helen laughed quietly, "but then I'm biased."

"How are you biased?" Charley asked.

"I grew up in Tewkesbury," Helen smiled, "I remember when the annual re-enactment event started there; I met the group there too."

"So did Tewkesbury have a battle or something?" Throttle queried curiously.

"Yes, 1471 – Wars of the Roses," Helen nodded, "quite an important battle I believe."

"Well, considering the Prince of Wales died there – thus crushing the Lancastrian hopes," Ginny sighed heavily.

"In case you were wondering most of the group are die hard Lancastrians!" Helen laughed, "The War's of the Roses were fought between the Lancastrians and the Yorkists – the names are a more modern way of identifying the two sides. The Lancastrian King was Henry VI, he was married to Margaret of Anjou and they had a son Edward, Prince of Wales. Then the Yorkist King was Edward IV, he married a lady called Elizabeth Woodville – which wasn't a popular move! His two sons, Prince Edward and Prince Richard, were famous for being imprisoned at the Tower of London by their Uncle - who would later became Richard III."

"The Princes in the Tower?" Charley asked with renewed interest. Ginny nodded.

"And the subject of who killed them is one of those topics that are best avoided around the group!" the young Scotswoman warned.

"They were killed?" Throttle's sounded surprised, "How? I mean it can't be easy to kill a King's son surely?"

"You'd be surprised," Helen hummed thoughtfully, "besides they were both quite young."

"Oh," Throttle gulped.

"Of course the typical romantic view comes from the Victorian period, but to be honest what we know historically speaking is pretty heart breaking," Ginny shrugged, "the fifteenth century was a very brutal time."

"Sounds like my planet right now," Throttle sighed.

* * *

As a visual reference The Legacy is based off ships of the Nelsonian era - although she is obviously a fictional/fantasy ship so doesn't totally comply with what a ship of the line would look like ;)

Helen/Ginny's banter on kidnapping is intended as a joke - sometimes finding time for events around busy work schedules is a nightmare! :D And Helen's reference to Tewkesbury is possibly a prelude to another story I've thought of but am still working out; as the Medieval Festival is listed as one of the top ten most bizarre festivals in the UK... ;)

Please feel free to review :)


	22. Chapter 22 - Training Begins

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

* * *

Chapter 22 – Training Begins

"We're going to need more people than we've currently got if we're gonna bring that spar down and replace it with another," Kai muttered as he paced The Legacy's main deck.

"What about Rhys?" Hugh suggested from his position leaning against the side, "His lot are always looking for an excuse to work on The Legacy."

"That's a little unfair to say the least Hugh," Freda sighed and eased back to lean against the main mast, "I daresay they wouldn't mind helping though."

"I'll give him a call then?" Hugh suggested getting up.

"Yeah – ask him though!" Freda called after Hugh's retreating back. She smiled as she saw Throttle appear over the side, he looked more confident than he had earlier.

"Heya!" Kai grinned, "Heard Helen came with the Major?"

"Yeah, I left her with Charley and Ginny," Throttle nodded thoughtfully, "wondered if I could help?"

"Hmmm you can, but we're gonna have to wait until some more help arrives," Freda grimaced, "that spar needs to come down and be replaced – we can do it ourselves, but it'll take more manpower than we currently have."

"Ah," Throttle stared up at the mast again.

"Hey! How's about a tour?!" Kai gave the Martian a friendly poke and beckoned for him to follow. Throttle flicked his ears slightly and nodded slowly. Freda grinned and tripped after Kai.

"I think you forgot something?" she murmured waving a small bunch of keys under Kai's nose; Throttle frowned, the look Freda had fixed on Kai said she was suspicious of something. The Commander shook his head; he must have imagined it, the two were old friends after all.

"Heh – oh yeah!" Kai laughed nervously, "Won't get far without them!"

Kai undid the padlock on one of the doors that led down to the lower decks. Throttle followed him below, his ears flicking as a cacophony of unfamiliar sounds assailed them. Kai's tour was brief, but took in most of the major parts of the ship. Throttle was pleased to find he could identify the more obvious areas for himself such as the Captain's cabin, the gun deck and several of the major storage areas. Throttle was surprised to discover The Legacy had a steam-powered engine; according to Kai she'd been part of the British Navy's experiments into steam powered warships in the early nineteenth century. The smells below deck were amazing; every part of the ship, every substance associated with it seemed to have a unique odour; all together they formed an unmistakable mirage that strangely made Throttle feel right at home. Still he was relieved to go topside again and breathe the cool, fresh sea air instead of the staler air below. He gazed at Freda; she was talking animatedly to someone on a mobile phone, Hugh stood by her looking curious. She said her goodbyes, smiled and hung up, passing the phone back to Hugh.

"So Rhys is coming?" Kai queried.

"Yeah, he and the boys will be here after work – so we'll probably be working in the dark," Freda grimaced, "it's not ideal, but it's better than the risks we'd take doing it alone."

Throttle gazed upwards to the broken yard on the mizzen; he couldn't for the life of him see what risks there'd be in taking it down and replacing it. There again he had no experience with this kind of earth technology.

The morning wore on slowly as everyone waited for Rhys to arrive. Charley had discovered that Rhys was the head of a biker group who lived locally; the group had close ties to them through joint members. One thing was obvious from the way the group members talked; the bikers loved The Legacy and had a lot of respect for the old ship. They ate lunch in relative silence, broken only by the occasional short burst of conversation. The afternoon however turned out to be anything but quiet. The re-enactors had become restless with the morning's inactivity and so Freda marshalled them into a group for some long overdue weapons practice. Charley whistled at the sight of the weaponry; despite the fact everything was blunted it still looked deadly. Throttle snagged a chair and sat down to watch as the fighters circled in. The Major sat down heavily next to the Martian male and grinned lazily.

"You ever seen Freda fight?" he enquired lightly as he lit a cigar.

"No, not with swords, my friends and I haven't known her very long," Throttle shrugged, "I've seen her using some sort of bow though."

"Hmmm, yes she does do a bit of archery - she has a laminate longbow in case you wondered," the Major chuckled, "but her real skill lies in sword fighting. There's a very good reason no one's ever challenged her for her position as group Captain."

"She's that good?!" Throttle gulped, glancing at Charley who had just joined them.

"Oh yes, she is that good," the Major agreed, pointing to where Freda stood talking to the group, "you don't beat that woman in a sword fight unless she wants you to."

"Seriously?" Charley gasped.

"Seriously," the Major confirmed.

The fighters suddenly scattered from the circle, each running into an open space away from the others.

"Sudden death is it?" the Major chortled merrily as Arnette stopped near them.

"Huh – yeah," Arnette didn't look at them, but instead kept a fixed stare on the other fighters.

"Sudden death?" Throttle flicked his ears at the term unsure what to make of it.

"They have different ways of training, sometimes they just spar with each other, one on one or in small teams – unsurprisingly they call that sparring. If there are enough of them they'll form two large teams and practice like they were actually doing battle – sort of a mock battle if you like. It's a good way of learning how to work with others and particularly how to defend as a group," the Major explained as they watched the fighters warily eyeing each other.

"So what's this then?"

"Well they often circle like this – particularly if there aren't very many of them. Basically everyone huddles in and someone calls the rules for that particular time. Most of the time they do a standard whether or not teams are allowed, how many on each team and whether the team can win or if one person has to fight until there's no one left. The blows are usually graded by what area of the body they hit," the Major chuckled as things began to heat up amongst the fighters. Freda had stopped prowling and had taken Kai on. Her focus was amazing, but there was a small frown creasing her brow. The Major growled slightly at the way Kai was holding his weapons. Whatever was or wasn't wrong, Kai still went down in a straight fight; Throttle's ears twitched this way and that at the sound of steel impacting steel.

"So Sudden Death is where there are no teams and only one person wins?" Charley asked in interest.

"Essentially yes – also they usually work on a one blow kills rule for Sudden Death," the Major grinned, "although you can ally with someone in the early stages to give you a bit more of an edge. Of course the deal cuts both ways – they may help you or they may stab you in the back and run. Usually only the weaker or more inexperienced fighters do alliances; the stronger fighters have no trouble standing alone."

"Sounds interesting," Throttle grimaced as he watched a bout between Ash and Oak that was proving merciless. Hugh ended the bout by landing a sneaky blow on Oak and then quickly dispatching Ash after a short exchange of sword on billhook. Charley grinned at the way they sat or knelt after they'd been 'killed'; some fighters even going so far as to flop down on the ground like an actual corpse.

Freda whistled the group back in after she'd taken Mich-y and Hugh down in a spectacular two on one fight. Charley whistled slightly as she realised the truth in the Major's words; Freda was really, seriously good. The group fell to sparring and Freda sauntered over.

"Hey Charley – you want a go?" Freda asked with a cheeky grin.

"Um – yeah, ok," Charley gulped completely stunned by the offer. Freda downed her metal sword and produced two short wooden wasters. She tossed one idly to Charley and beckoned her away from the Major and Throttle.

Charley smiled happily as Freda ran her through the basics of defence; it wasn't quite as complicated as she thought it'd be, but it was going to take practice for her defence moves to become reflexive instinct. Throttle watched curiously as Freda trained Charley, the more he watched the more he felt drawn to learning some earth combat himself. He grimaced at the thought, from what little he'd heard from Freda and the others there were hundreds of different styles of fighting on earth; arranged by such things as geographic region and time period, as well as social standing amongst others. Some were never taught outside of very specific groups of people; whilst others were so well known they were practically common knowledge. Throttle sighed heavily.

"It wouldn't hurt you know," the Major said in response to the sigh.

"What wouldn't?" Throttle glanced sidelong at the older human.

"Learning some fighting from this lot," the Major nodded toward the group.

"There's so much," Throttle groaned, "I'd never learn it all."

"Ha! This lot don't know it all! Not by a long chalk! It would take a dozen lifetimes to know it all! They just specialise in the type of fighting that appeals to them most," the Major smiled, "Freda for instance is a very good sword fighter, but she can't use a polearm to save her life; Kettle is the exact opposite, doesn't know one end of a sword from the other. Take my advice – get Freda to teach you some stuff, you may find it handy. After all, how many Martians have intimate knowledge of the way we fight? Or those fish type things Stoker used to witter on about."

"Well we do bootleg some earth stuff on Mars," Throttle grinned, "so some of the older generation will recognise it, but they wouldn't know how to do it per se. As for the Plutarkians – well they don't usually take much interest in anything but themselves."

"A dangerous way of living," the Major chuckled, "but an advantage to you I think."

"Heh, maybe," Throttle nodded.

"Hey! Throttle! You joining?" Freda called; Charley was now sparring gently against Hugh.

"Heck – I don't know Freda," Throttle gasped, he certainly wasn't ready to jump straight into training.

"Why don't you show him some Talhoffer?" the Major suggested slyly.

"Hmmm, maybe – but that's a bit unfair considering Throttle will never have seen that type of fighting before," Freda raised her eyebrows sceptically at the idea.

"Well it can't be that bad – I've seen some crazy stuff with the Freedom Fighters," Throttle replied defensively.

"Trust me – you've never seen crazy like Talhoffer does crazy," the Major warned as Throttle stood up. Freda smiled slightly as Throttle walked over.

"Well, we won't do any stuff with weapons just yet," she spoke quietly, a slight purr in her voice.

"Ok – so what then? Wrestling?" Throttle chuckled, "Freda girl you'll never take me in a wrestling match!"

"And you, sir, will live to regret those words," Freda purred dangerously.

Throttle grinned slightly as they began wrestling, gently at first but then gaining in ferocity as they sussed each other's strengths and weaknesses. Freda was skilled; but her size and strength was no match for his. Yet he still found he couldn't pin her, whenever he thought he had her, she had moved away. He was tempted to bring his tail into play, but decided that would be an unfair advantage given that he was already taller and stronger than Freda. Without warning he found his arm twisted, his legs gone from under him, and his body spun round like a top; next thing he knew he was flat out with a cheerfully grinning Freda pinning him down.

"You were saying, Mr Macho?" she chuckled.

"How the heck did you manage that?!" Throttle gasped, he wriggled experimentally only to find that he actually had very little movement left. He gulped; he had no idea how she'd managed to floor him, let alone how she could pin him so effectively.

"Easily," Freda grinned, "now, would you like to learn some Talhoffer?"

"You know, I rather think I would," Throttle laughed.

* * *

Just as a side note - hopefully its noticeable that Freda's been suspicious of Kai to a point for a while. For other characters it's only when they see Kai fight that they sense something isn't right - for instance the Major's growl at the way Kai's holding his weapons is because he's holding them differently to normal :) hope this makes sense :)

Talhoffer wise - well what can I say, most medieval re-enactors [especially those lucky enough to do fifteenth century] know about Talhoffer - he's a German swordmaster of the fifteenth century who wrote an epic manuscript on fighting techniques. It's absolutely brilliant and well worth more than a glance if anyone's into European Martial Arts :) of course he's not the only expert out there, Ringeck [also German] and Fiore [Italian] are equally brilliant, but, alas, less well known. And yup for anyone wondering if it's possible to beat an opponent the way Freda beats Throttle - yes it is actually possible in a lot of martial arts for a smaller, weaker opponent to beat someone larger and stronger ;D

Please feel free to review and/or leave constructive criticism :D


	23. Chapter 23 - Moonlight

**Disclaimer** - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)

I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D

I'm afraid this'll be the last chapter for this upload :( but I'll be uploading some more [hopefully!] at the end of the week :)

* * *

Chapter 23 - Moonlight

The entire group turned in early that night; Rhys and his crew had arrived late afternoon and everyone had set too with an iron force will. Throttle had been astounded at the work involved in replacing the spar. He'd even taken his turn hauling the new spar up into place on the mast and had nearly done himself a serious injury, owing to the fact that he wasn't prepared for the weight. Still the mizzen was now in fully working order with a new yard slung in place. Rhys and his crew had elected to begin heading home soon after; they all had work the next day and were already tired from a day's work plus the added strain of repairing The Legacy. Freda spoke quietly to Rhys and Throttle's sharp eyes caught the near silent exchange of beer money for that night before the bikers rode into the sunset. Charley watched them go wistfully.

"I didn't even get to look at their bikes," she had pouted.

"Awwww!" Hugh hugged her softly, "Never mind, you'll just have to get Freda to bring you over to an event then we will all have more time."

Throttle's ears twitched instinctively at the strange yet now familiar sounds of night-time in a canvas tent. Eventually his eyes drifted wearily closed; and the nightmare was back.

"Throttle! Throttle!" Freda hissed quietly as she shook the Martian male awake. Throttle's eyes snapped open. but still seemed focussed on something or someone that wasn't there. He groaned slightly as he finally came to.

"Freda?" he murmured incoherently, "Where's Carbine?"

"In Chicago with Stoker and Vinnie, probably giving Limburger a run for his money," Freda sighed, "nightmares again huh?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go for a walk," Throttle sat up shakily.

"Not on your own you're not! You look wasted," Freda snorted softly before pulling her boots on and grabbing two cloaks. She calmly handed one to Throttle and slung the other one around herself. Throttle followed Freda quietly as she wandered down to the beach. The Legacy creaked slightly from her place at her moorings and Throttle gazed at the magnificent ship bathed in moonlight.

"Come on," Freda grinned, poking Throttle's upper arm. She tripped down the beach, leading him away from the ship; Throttle followed curiously. After a mile or so's walk Freda suddenly turned onto a narrow path that led up from the beach. Throttle grunted at the steepness and the loose footing but stumbled upwards. He found Freda looking out over the ruins of an enormous building.

"What is this place?" he breathed completely awed by the size of the place.

"An old Cistercian monastery," Freda shrugged, "it was destroyed during the dissolution."

She walked across into the monastery complex, her cloak fanning slightly behind her as she moved. Throttle continued to gaze across the site; he'd only seen Martian monasteries before, and as he'd technically only seen one of them in the flesh he was no expert. Still the place was huge; he guessed that it must have supported a large community at one point in time. Heaven alone knew what the dissolution was; he'd never heard the term before, but it didn't sound pleasant. He stumbled over to where Freda stood silhouetted in the moonlight.

"So where are we in the complex then? The church?"Throttle asked curiously.

"Yes. Does that bother you?" Freda glanced across worriedly.

"No, not at all," Throttle shook his head, "how big was this thing?"

"Huge, the bit we're standing in is the nave where the lay brothers' choir was – further up is where the monks' choir stood. Back that way is the west door and Galilee Porch, and then to the east, north and south lies the rest of the complex," Freda pointed in the directions she meant. Throttle shivered as the wind whipped across the abandoned complex. It was certainly eerie.

"Wow," he wrapped himself tighter in the cloak, "care to show me round?"

"In the middle of the night? When we are both freezing cold?" Freda chuckled slightly, "Sure."

She began talking softly about the points of interest in the Church before beginning to explain about the east and west ranges and the buildings that lay to the south. Throttle followed her slow footsteps as she showed him where different things were located. He smiled at how organised the Cistercians were, a place for everything and everything in its place. He chuckled slightly at her witty anecdotes about scholars she'd known, about the place itself and about the order of monks to whom it belonged. Finally Freda threw her hands up and sighed in resignation.

"Right I'm talked out," she grinned, "care to head back?"

"Yeah, thanks for the historical lecture," Throttle teased gently as he gazed at her slightly upturned face.

"Hmmm," Freda growled softly as she turned to head back toward the beach.

"Freda, about Carbine," Throttle suddenly felt the need to tell someone his intentions.

"What about Carbine?" Freda asked curiously.

"I'm breaking up with her when we get back to Chicago – this time for good," Throttle replied simply, his ears hung down slightly as he spoke and Freda could tell how unhappy he was over the decision.

"Well, it's up to you," Freda murmured frowning slightly, "but I wouldn't write off ever having a future with her."

"She doesn't trust me; and neither does Stoker really. Even Vinnie didn't say anything," Throttle could feel the tears pricking at his eyes.

"No, this isn't about not trusting you, it's about recognising how stressed out you're getting. When we get back to Chicago I think they'll be more relaxed about you riding with them," Freda sincerely hoped they would be at any rate.

"It isn't just this Freda," Throttle hung his head, "it's like you said about your relationships – we just argue so much!"

"Hmmm," Freda hummed slightly; she had no clue what to say to try and comfort Throttle, "but these nightmares – you obviously still care about her a lot."

"Yeah, but it's more like she's a good friend, or a sister, than the woman I love," Throttle groaned and walked over to join Freda at the top of the path.

"Well, give it time – maybe you'll feel different after you've had some time apart to think on it," Freda suggested. Throttle flicked his ears and caught Freda under the chin with his right hand; he captured her lips in a gentle, but passionate kiss. Freda backed up slightly only to find Throttle's tail and left arm preventing her; she froze, she didn't want this. Throttle released her as suddenly as he'd caught her.

"I'm sorry – I – I shouldn't have done that, it was out of line," Throttle blushed slightly; he could feel the heat under his fur but hoped the human female couldn't see it.

"No, you shouldn't have," Freda huffed slightly, "Throttle, I like you – a lot, but at the minute you're my friend and you're still in a relationship with Carbine! Besides I don't want a fling, or a mistake made on the rebound!"

"Then – would you?" Throttle could hardly believe his ears, she'd admonished him on the grounds that he was still in a relationship, that his head wasn't in the right place for a new relationship; but she hadn't shot him down completely.

"Would I... what?" Freda prompted.

"Would you consider having a serious relationship with me? In the future, after I've broken off with Carbine and got my head sorted?" Throttle's tail flicked agitatedly as he waited for the answer. Freda was silent for what seemed like a very long time.

"Yes, I guess I would consider it – in the future," Freda answered carefully, "but there's no way I'm about to see Carbine off! You two need to sort things out on your own!"

Throttle couldn't help grinning like a lunatic; he liked Freda a lot, and was somewhat curious as to what being in a relationship with her would be like. Interesting was one word he guessed. He shuffled his feet and coughed slightly.

"That's fair enough, you don't strike me as the sort that'd go in for stealing men out from under other women's noses," he murmured softly.

"No; although this – right now – is sailing pretty close to the wind for me! Too close in many respects!" Freda scolded him gently, "I like Carbine and I'd like all three of us to be friends, but Carbine is going to be justifiably pissed off with both of us if you break up with her and immediately start going out with me."

"So, wait a little?" Throttle shrugged.

"Wait – yes – see how things develop," Freda sighed, "I said I'd consider it Throttle; not that I'd be ready and willing whenever you are. Who knows? In a month's time you might just see me as a friend again – you might even hate me – we don't know the future."

"I guess," Throttle agreed in a non-committal fashion.

"Come on, we better head back, we're going back to Gloucestershire tomorrow," Freda started down the track to the beach. Throttle stood staring after her; there was one thing he hadn't told her that afternoon. She was the first woman to beat him in a fight.

* * *

Hee :) so maybe something brewing between Throttle and Freda - I haven't yet decided :D I'm currently editing and adding chapters to this story so I now have no clue what will happen!

The Abbey is ficticious - there are a number of Cistercian Abbeys in Wales with some close to the south coast, but there isn't a ruinous abbey belonging to the Cistercian Order that close to a beach! :) If anyone would like to see my inspiration check out images for Rievaulx Abbey in Yorkshire :)

Freda being the first woman to beat Throttle in a fight... I'm guessing Carbine can shoot as well as Throttle and is a good rider too but I'm working on another tentative theory that she probably hasn't tried competing in close combat. Being military turned freedom fighter I'm also guessing that Carbine does know how to fight close combat but just chooses not to a lot of the time. So yeah Carbine - mid to long range fighter compared to Freda who's very definitely a close combat specialist :)

Feel free to review and/or leave constructive criticism :D


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